


Good For Everything

by originella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - Muggle, AU - No Magic, AU - No Marauders, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bottom Harry Potter, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Good Severus Snape, Harry and Severus couldn't control themselves and neither could I, Harry is 18 before anything happens with Severus, Harry is in foster care, It'll all be explained - don't worry, James Potter & Peter Pettigrew Friendship, James Potter Bashing, James and Lily are dead, James and Remus don't know each other, James and Sirius don't know each other, Lily Evans Potter Bashing, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Peter Pettigrew is a monster, Severus is a social worker, Sirius Black Bashing, The Dursleys are Hermione's biological parents, Top Severus Snape, You Have Been Warned, harry is 17, okay I lied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 66,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originella/pseuds/originella
Summary: Harry Potter, seventeen, abused and broken but determined not to show it, has been in the care system since he was ten, and about to age out in the next ten months. He needs all the help he can get, if only he would be willing to accept it.Severus Snape, thirty-eight, is a social worker and is a little too obsessed with a romance series and is married to his work, despite what his co-workers want for him.When Severus meets Harry and their worlds collide - literally - they are left wondering if all is as they thought it was, and if there is hope for a better tomorrow.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Cormac McLaggen/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Eileen Prince/Tobias Snape, Filius Flitwick/Pomona Sprout, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lee Jordan/Fred Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Viktor Krum/Oliver Wood
Comments: 80
Kudos: 351





	1. An Introduction to Idiotic Expressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beccalayne3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beccalayne3/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the beautiful SouthronWildling for being my beta!

When Severus Snape had become a social worker in his early twenties, he’d made up his mind that he was going to help people as best he could, for though he’d not been helped as a child, he strove to do better for the future generations. He had been doing social work for a good seventeen years and he had a good position within the network he worked in, but he resented the fact that his co-workers seemed to want him to date, or, perhaps, just get out more, and not be sworn in marriage to his work. In Severus’s mind, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t fulfilled in other ways; he had his family’s fortune to consider but, due to his frugal ways, he’d barely had to dip into it since he’d gotten it at twenty-five, as well as the frequenting of bookshops he did on the weekends and such. With his parents and grandparents dead and having no siblings to speak of, Severus was alone, and he liked it that way.

Albus Dumbledore had been the overseer of the network Severus was based in since before he had even joined it, and although Severus didn’t necessarily count Albus as a close friend, he did trust the man. Severus was on the second tier within the network, having achieved the title of “senior social worker” within a few months of his hiring, due to the shortage of qualified workers within the network during that period. There were three other senior social workers on staff—Minerva McGonagall, a no-nonsense widow who was tough but fair; Filius Flitwick, a short little man who took on notoriously difficult cases, and often taught children to laugh at themselves; and, finally, Pomona Sprout, who decorated her office as if it was a botanical garden, and frequently applied plants to her analogies when explaining things to the children she was in charge of.

So suffice it to say when Severus arrived at the office of Magical Kinship on Monday morning, nursing his first of two morning cups of coffee, he stepped into the lift as per usual, drinking it, and pulled out his pager, knowing that he was slightly late. He was behind that morning not only because there was a particularly effervescent gaggle of schoolgirls in front of him at the local coffee stop, but also because he’d stayed up an extra forty-five minutes to read the latest chapter in _The Wicked Count and the Secret Masquerade_ , the fifth in a series of romance novels which Severus had picked up and couldn’t put down, about the sexual exploits of a homosexual count in pre-Revolution England. In the last three books, he’d caught the attention of an older marquis, and there was just no way to guess what would ultimately happen next.

Just as the doors were about to shut, with Severus quickly snapping out of the fantasy of the marquis bending the count over the desk of his own study, one of the newer recruits barged in, and flashed Severus his smile. The smile in question, according to the newcomer, had gotten him lots of points during uni. Severus bestowed upon him his typical grimace, and mentally crossed his fingers that the man wouldn’t speak, for the only thing he had to ever say was words of praise about himself, as well as personal questions about those around him.

His prayers went unanswered.

“Severus!” Gilderoy said, all the while continuing to beam at him. “How are you this morning? I trust your weekend went well.”

“Quite,” Severus replied, his tone clipped, hoping that Lockhart would get with the program and belt up. He was so close to smacking his head upon the side of the lift; almost none were more intolerable than Gilderoy, although Dolores Umbridge, whom he was convinced was a sadist, was easily ahead of him.

“I dozed off a bit early, myself,” Lockhart went on, and Severus gritted his teeth, hating it when the man constantly nattered on. “You probably have a bigger case-load than I do. Don’t know why that is,” he continued, “given all the self-help books I’ve written.”

Severus managed to win the battle of rolling his eyes; even Albus knew that Lockhart’s supposed self-help books were fakes. The words and methods themselves were real, but the notion that someone as inept as Lockhart taking credit for them was downright laughable. “Tell me again which was your first one,” Severus muttered.

“ _Tantrums with Teenagers_ , a bestseller!” Lockhart said, that smile of his making Severus want to smack him. “Then came _Anger in Adolescents_ , _Joys of Juvenescence_ , _Innovators in Infancy_ , _Yoo-Hoo to Youth_ —”

“Thank you,” Severus said, knowing that he couldn’t take much more of the man patting himself on the back. “That’ll be enough.”

He felt relieved when the doors of the lift dinged open, and he made his way down the corridor towards his office, relieved that Lockhart would be regulated to a dingy cubicle with the other beginners, among them Nymphadora Tonks, Bill Weasley, and Fleur Delacour. Others in the department involved the marketing executives, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody; the analysts, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin; the therapists, Rita Skeeter, Rubeus Hagrid, and Narcissa Malfoy; the medical nurse, Poppy Pomfrey; and then there was Albus’s secretary, Penelope Clearwater, who would frequently flit back and forth between the four senior social workers, just to make sure things were going well.

Stepping into his corner office, Severus shut the door behind him, hanging up his black overcoat and making his way over to his desk. He set down his messenger bag and pulled out some of the documents on his case work, relieved that he had managed to find a home for Colin and Dennis Creevey, after their parents died in a fire in their small council estate home last winter. It appeared as if the family, Felicity and Trevor Johnson, were going to go ahead with the adoption, which was a life-saver, as Colin was sixteen and Dennis fourteen, and teenagers—especially boys—were the most difficult to place.

Sitting down at his desk, Severus pulled his coffee back towards him and sipped it, while continuing to gaze at the documents before him. One of his success stories was Hermione Granger, who, due to some odd behavior perceived by her biological parents, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, who had had a son, Dudley, who was Hermione’s twin, the Dursleys had put up their daughter for adoption at the age of five. Poor Hermione had bounced around from home to home for five years, until a kind couple, Milton and Christina Granger, a pair of well-off dentists, had fostered her when she was eleven. The adoption was finalized six months later, and Hermione finally had a lovely home; she was nearly eighteen now, and had already been accepted into the University of Oxford, and sent Severus a letter once a month with updates on her personal life and such. At one such fundraiser Hermione had attended at the fostering agency office, she had met Bill Weasley’s youngest brother, Ron, and the pair had hit it off, cementing a committed relationship shortly thereafter.

The call upon his desk phone did not surprise him, and Severus promptly picked it up. “Yes, Miss Clearwater?” he inquired into the receiver.

“Sorry to be a bother, Mr. Snape,” came Penelope’s reply. “Mr. Dumbledore has requested to see you in his office.”

“When, Miss Clearwater?”

“As quickly as possible, Mr. Snape,” came the girl’s voice. “It’s about a young man. A new case, as it were, and he believes you to be the best fit for him.”

“Of course,” Severus replied. “Please tell him that I am on my way.”

“Right away, sir,” Penelope said, before hanging up.

Severus got to his feet and straightened his typical black, nondescript uniform, before he made his way out of the office and down the corridor in the opposite direction. He went down the east wing, where, situated at the end of the hallway, was the door which led to the antechamber connected to Albus’s office. Ignoring the gaudy-looking gargoyle that Albus kept outside of it, he made his way inside, nodding to Penelope, who gave him a small smile, and went towards the inner office door, tapping on it.

“Come in, Severus,” called Albus.

Severus stepped inside as Albus got to his feet. “You wanted to see me, Albus?” he asked, and shut the door behind him at Albus’s gesture.

“I did want to, yes, Severus. Please, sit yourself down,” he said, gesturing to the free chair beside the occupied one, and Severus moved to do so. “Severus, allow me to introduce Harry Potter,” he said, and Severus turned to regard the young man next to him.

Severus had to grit his teeth to prevent his jaw from dropping, due to the utter perfection of the face that looked back at him. It appeared to be a Greek statue, at first glance, but, after permitting his eyes to sweep over the face once more, it was clearly a Raphael, with his unruly raven hair and shining green eyes, plus a cherry-red mouth, strong jaw, and muscles which were clearly rippling from beneath the hoodie, Severus swallowed, and inclined his head. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter,” he replied.

“Harry,” came the reply, and Severus detected an East London accent. “I keep expecting to see my father whenever people say that.” He hesitated for a moment, and when Severus’s mouth came open again, he replied, “Mum died when I was born, and Dad drank himself into a drunken stupor day in and day out, to the point where he walked out in front of a double decker bus. I was ten when he ended up doing that,” he informed the man.

“Harry had no relatives, as his mother was in and out of the care system herself, thus making her family ineligible, and James’s parents died in a rather tragic boating accident soon after he and Lily were married,” Albus explained to Severus as Harry tucked himself deeper into his chair. “Lily and James married at eighteen, and had Harry when they were twenty-one.”

“How did your mother...?”

“They couldn’t stop the bleeding after the birth.” Harry, arms crossed, his voice hardly bearing any emotion, although his eyes seem to be filled with sadness for the woman whom he had never met. “Dad hung on for a while, but he couldn’t stop himself from all the drinking...” He shrugged.

“Harry was first taken into care at the age of five, when his teacher at reception noticed that he was a bit too thin,” Albus said gently, his blue eyes filled with sadness for the young man.

“I was stealing lunches from the other kids,” Harry informed Severus, and he didn’t seem to think it was a particularly bad thing, one way or the other. “Dad held down a job at the factory for as long as he could, but was frequently laid off. We had a friend of his staying with us—Peter Pettigrew...”

Severus noted the bitterness in Harry’s voice, and Severus shifted slightly in his seat, wondering why that name sounded so familiar to him... “He’s familiar to us, isn’t he, Albus? Pettigrew?” Severus asked, his eyes shifting from Harry over to the overseer.

Albus nodded, his blue eyes, which usually sparkled over those half-moon spectacles he insisted upon wearing, looking grave as he tugged at his snow-white beard; he was always Father Christmas during the holiday parties when very young perspective foster children were paraded around, in the hopes that they would be adopted. “I’m afraid so, Severus,” he replied, giving a cursory glance over at Harry before turning back towards the social worker. “Pettigrew the Pedophile, they call him at Manchester...”

Severus looked over at Harry, who was tracing the already-made scratches in the curved arms of the chair he sat in with the pad of his finger. “Perhaps this conversation would be best-suited elsewhere,” he said, looking at Albus for permission.

“A splendid and most inspired idea, Severus,” Albus said, getting to his feet. “Harry, my boy, just follow Severus, then, as he’ll be your social worker.”

“Haven’t had one of those before,” Harry muttered, his tone filled with sarcasm as he made a grab for a black overnight bag which had clearly seen better days, and got to his feet, immediately moving to follow Severus out of the office and past Penelope’s desk.

Severus remained silent as they walked down the hallway and towards his own office, knowing that he and Harry would definitely get off on the wrong foot if he sought to correct him about his words to Albus when they’d left his office. When they arrived at Severus’s office, Severus ushered Harry in and nodded to the chair he could occupy, before walking towards the little kitchenette his office boasted and turned, looking over his shoulder at the young man. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got sodas, water, juice... Whatever you like, really.”

Harry swallowed. “Hot chocolate?” he asked.

Severus nodded, turning away to hide his smile. “Of course,” he replied, filling the coffee pot with water and putting it on to boil. He helped himself to a second cup of coffee and poured the hot water into two different mugs, stirring in some instant coffee to one and the cocoa mix into the other, the little marshmallows in the latter immediately floating to the top. Turning, he brought the mugs over, setting them down upon coasters on his desk and gave Harry a tight smile. “Careful. It’s hot.”

“Thanks a lot,” Harry replied, watching the steam for a moment before looking up at Severus. “So, I guess you want to get this shit over with, then?”

Severus blinked. “Pardon?”

Harry grimaced, leaning back in the chair. “I mean, it’s all the same with social workers, especially the ones I’ve met, no offense,” he said quietly. “They want us to come in here as soon as we’re dumped, tell them our sob stories about why we’re here and all that nonsense, and then go over the available placements within the networks and such to find a match that’s suitable. Unless, of course, if they’re damaged goods, like me,” Harry went on with a bitter smile, “or come from the ghetto, also like me, or are too old, me again, or a guy, or a gay guy—”

“Harry,” said Severus softly, causing the tirade to stop, and he leaned forward, bracing his palms upon his desk. “I’m on your side, all right?”

Harry sighed. “That’s what they all say...”

Severus nodded, allowing that. “I’m sure a great many of them have. It’s a tactic to get the child or young adult to understand that they’re not alone,” he explained.

Harry blinked. “Were you in care, too?”

Severus shook his head. “No, I wasn’t, but I should’ve been. My mother was too weak to stand up to my father when he’d come home, drunk, and beat us for the littlest things. It was not a pretty existence, and I’ve got many scars from the experience—both physical and emotional—but because of that experience of a dark childhood, I was able to overcome my fears of being antisocial and turned it into helping people.”

“So, you help people, kids, because you weren’t helped?”

Severus nodded. “Something like that, yes. Previous generations believed that airing your dirty laundry, so to speak, was a shameful practice and, therefore, shouldn’t be done. As a result, many children were kept in environments inappropriate for their wellbeing and, as such, grew up in a bad way.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Harry said, his tone soft, all defensiveness gone.

Severus smiled tightly once again, before digging into his desk for a notepad and a pen, knowing that it would likely be a good opportunity to get the full story from Harry in regards to what had happened with Pettigrew sooner rather than later. “Why don’t you tell me about the events that led you to returning to your father’s residence,” he said. “I believe you mentioned that Pettigrew lived with you?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Dad and Pettigrew got a flat together when they were working at the knitwear factory,” he said quietly. “Since they had enough room at the flat, and were making good money, the evaluator decided that it was safe for me to come back, so I did. I’d been in care for about two years at that point, so I was about three months away from my eighth birthday. All I had to do, according to the social workers and the courts, was go to school, keep up with my assignments, and not steal other kids’ lunches...”

“And, I take it, it fell apart?”

Harry swallowed, reaching out and taking ahold of the hot chocolate, which still steamed ever so slightly, but seemed to be a good temperature for him, for he drank a little. “Yeah. It all went wrong that summer... That’s when it all started, anyway,” he remarked, swirling the brown liquid in his mug.

“What led up to it?”

“Dad and Pettigrew would go out every night after work to drink,” Harry replied. “They taught me how to make simple meals—T.V. dinners or ramen, things like that—because they didn’t want to get into trouble with the courts for not feeding me...”

“So, you were left alone, at night, at eight-years-old?”

Harry nipped at his lower lip, his green eyes radiating the pain he must’ve felt, due to the neglect of his own father, due to his addiction to the bottle. “Yeah. Wasn’t too bad. We had a T.V., and plenty of books. And I had quiet to do my homework. Most of the building was filled with families anyhow...”

“Did anyone look in on you?”

Harry shook his head. “No. They all preferred to mind their own business.”

That caused a bad taste to enter Severus’s mouth, but he forced himself to ignore it. “Did your father ever hit you?”

“Sure, when he didn’t have enough quid for the pub, or came home too drunk to see straight,” he replied, sounding numb to it, likely due to the frequent occurrences of it. “He’d backhand me and I’d go flying...”

“And Pettigrew?”

“Wouldn’t do it in front of Dad—despite everything, he was scared of Dad,” Harry told him, hunching his shoulders slightly then.

“What would he do?”

“Wait until Dad was passed out drunk before he’d do it,” Harry whispered. “He’d, y’know, touch me and stuff like that.” Harry leaned back in his chair, gripping onto the mug and attempting to focus on the rug beneath his chair.

“Did he rape you?”

Harry scoffed. “‘Course he did. He likes little kids, Pettigrew does.”

“How old were you the first time?”

“Almost nine,” Harry told Severus. “He told me he loved me, and that’s what made it okay, but that other people wouldn’t understand our feelings, so we had to keep quiet.”

Severus felt sick, but nevertheless documented Harry’s words to pass onto Albus. “That’s a frequent tactic with abusers,” Severus told him, his tone gentle.

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, I know...”

“Harry, you know that it’s not your fault, don’t you?”

Green eyes flashed to his, unbridled rage seeming to bubble just beneath the surface. “Are you implying that I fucking asked for it?!” he demanded.

Severus shook his head then, remembering his training, and knowing that he would have to remain calm at all costs. “Absolutely not, Harry.” He sighed. “Abuse comes in all shapes and sizes, but no accounts should ever be made out to be worse than other forms. While I myself was never raped by my father, I can tell you that he beat me black and blue dozens of times, and not just with his fists or his belt. His favorite was a fireplace poker,” Severus said bitterly, and recalled it being shoved—

“Yeah, well, I finally coughed up the information to a copper on the corner, and Pettigrew got twenty in the bin,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Still writes to me, you know...”

Severus blinked. “Does he?”

“Yeah. He’s not supposed to or anything, but, you know...”

“Do you have his letters?”

Harry reached downwards and opened his backpack, grabbing ahold of something and dumping it onto Severus’s desk, different colored envelopes and spindly handwriting greeting the social worker’s eyes. “Every single one,” he said, shrugging.

Severus’s eyes widened then but he forced himself to remain calm. “What does he...?”

“He says that my arse won’t be the same, because I’m too old,” Harry said, coloring at the words, which were likely direct quotes, just as he finished his hot chocolate. “Says he liked my arse when it was small, and like a virgin, back when he didn’t do it as much...”

“How do you feel about him?”

“Pettigrew?!” Harry spat, narrowing his eyes, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I fucking hate him! That son of a bitch destroyed my childhood! He got Dad hooked on the bottle, didn’t pay a scrap of rent for the flat, and he fucked me behind Dad’s back! How can you ask me how I felt about him?!” he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. “Of course I hated him. I mean, he was a coward, and as cowardly as they come. He was like a fucking rat... I don’t know why I eventually just lay back and took it, but, maybe I do. Maybe I was so desperate for love that I just didn’t know the goddamn difference anymore...”

“Harry...”

“Why couldn’t my dad have loved me?” he asked, his voice trembling. “All I wanted was for him to love me, and he couldn’t... You know what he said to me, that night?” he queried, and looked up at Severus.

“What night?”

Harry swallowed. “Dad didn’t die immediately following the double-decker hitting him. He was in hospital for about a week before his organs failed, and the doctors said it was mainly due to the rotting of his kidneys and liver that did him in... I went to see him,” he went on. “He told me why, why he couldn’t love me, or even look at me...”

“What did he say?”

“Said it was because of my eyes,” Harry replied bitterly. “I looked just like Dad, but his eyes were brown, not green. Mum’s eyes were green...”

“Harry, he was the adult,” Severus told him gently. “He shouldn’t have...”

“I may not have good authority on parents here, Snape, but I sure as hell know what’s considered to be appropriate and inappropriate behavior,” he shot out. Rolling his eyes, he looked up at the ceiling, exasperated. “I suppose now you’re going to call yet another group home for me...”

“What?”

“A group home, where all the undesirables with several strikes to their files go,” he muttered. “I suppose one could say I’m a lost cause, what with my background and shit...”

“Harry, you’re hardly...”

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Harry said, cutting across him as he looked up. “That’ll just make me feel worse about the entire thing, y’know? I can’t stand people who feel sorry for me. I stopped feeling sorry for myself a long time ago, and I’d prefer not to enter that frame of mind again, if it’s all the same to you.”

“All right,” Severus said, lifting his hand and silencing Harry, and lifted his coffee to his lips; the instant stuff never did it for him like the coffeeshop down the road, but it was better than no discernable caffeine until lunchtime. He knew that many other social workers would likely send Harry to a group home before even looking at his file, just to be done with it, but Severus knew better than that. He’d been doing this for such a long time, and he knew defensive mode when he saw it, and it was enough now. “Can you wait here a moment?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere to be,” he replied.

“Good,” Severus said, getting to his feet and moving to leave the office. “Um... Don’t touch anything,” he said, and he hoped that Harry would listen to him as he left the office and moved down another hallway.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had been a couple since they were at Eton together as teenagers, and they’d wanted a family ever since they’d joined the fostering agency. Although Magical Kinship permitted same-sex couple fostering and adoptions, it was difficult to do, as they were not sanctioned under the law. While Sirius and Remus had fostered plenty over the years, they had yet to find the right person to join their family. Now, however, Severus believed that he had found just the right person to make it complete.

Severus knocked at the door of their shared office and, once he was granted entrance, quickly moved inside the place and stared at both men, eyes alight. “I’ve found him.”

Sirius lifted his black head from the computer he was on, while Remus looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading. “Found who, Severus?”

“Your son, if all goes well,” Severus told them, smiling.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Remus asked, getting to his feet.

“His name is Harry,” Severus told them. “He’s seventeen; parents both dead. Mother died of complications when he was born, father when he was ten of organ failure. He’s been in care ever since, and while he would do well to sit down and talk with a counselor, I think what he needs are two loving parents who know just what he’s going through.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “He’s gay, then?”

“Let’s just say that you have more in common with young Harry than you might think,” Severus told him, knowing that he couldn’t reveal too much. “Why don’t you come and meet young Harry, and we can see if it’s a good match?”

Remus sighed but nevertheless took Sirius’s hand. “Let’s go, then.”

Severus swept out of the office and moved down the corridor again, and returned to his office, quickly spotting Harry fiddling with the zipper upon his backpack. “Harry?”

Harry turned, looking up with those captivating green eyes of his and gazed at Severus for a moment, before looking at Sirius and Remus. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hello, Harry,” Sirius said, stepping forward. “I’m Sirius, and this is Remus.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Remus put in.

Harry nodded. “Nice to meet you both.” He looked back up at Severus. “Just... Tell me one thing here, Snape. They’re... They’re not cops, are they?”

“We’re in marketing,” Sirius said firmly.

“Although some people call us robbers,” Remus joked.

Harry smiled. “So, why’re you here, then?”

Severus smiled at Harry then and looked between the three of them before speaking again. “I didn’t think that a group home would be the best fit.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry asked.

“We’re going to apply to be your foster carers, Harry,” Sirius told him.

“If that’s all right with you,” Remus said quickly.

Harry looked shocked for a moment but looked resolved to it. “Well, anything can beat that hell hole I just left,” he admitted, and Sirius and Remus turned to look over at Severus, who shrugged, knowing that Harry’s story likely had many layers to it, and he’d more than likely just scratched the surface. This was truly the beginning.


	2. Iambic Pentameter

Harry stepped after Sirius and Remus from the streetcar and directly through a black iron gate, and remained silent as they stepped along a fleet of cobblestones. He was surprised at how quickly the paperwork had managed to be signed but said nothing of it as Sirius fished a jumble of old keys from within an inner pocket of his charcoal-gray peacoat, unlocking a door before them, which boasted a brass number twelve upon it. Remus stepped inside directly after Sirius and the pair remained in the foyer, done up in dark wood and ancient-looking wallpaper, as they mutually motioned Harry inside.

“This is Grimmauld Place,” Sirius announced as Remus shut and locked the door behind Harry, a smile on his face, one which met his striking blue eyes. “I inherited it from my parents, after the death of my younger brother,” he explained.

Harry blinked, his green eyes riddling with confusion. “I thought that properties and fortune passed automatically from father to oldest son, in the traditional sense,” he said, not wanting to be impertinent, but he couldn’t help but question Sirius’s statement.

“It’s a rather complicated situation, Harry,” Remus said gently.

“Not so, Remy,” Sirius told him gently, smiling indulgently as Remus moved himself to stand beside him. “My parents were frightfully traditional, so when they figured out that not only was I gay, but I wouldn’t be providing them with grandchildren in the traditional sense, there was an uproar, and so, my younger brother, Regulus, was selected as the heir.”

“Regulus was just better at hiding that portion of himself, wasn’t he, Siri?” Remus asked his partner softly.

Harry’s eyes widened. “So, Regulus was gay, too?”

“Oh, extremely,” Sirius said with a nod. “But, in Mum and Dad’s eyes, he could do no wrong. I suspect that they knew,” he went on quietly, “but I could never confirm or deny that fact. I went to live with Remy’s family when I was sixteen, and neither one of his parents minded that we had found one another.”

“I’ve had major depressive disorder since I was a small boy, due in part to my father’s willingness to put his rather lucrative career over his family,” Remus told Harry. “Mum was a wonderful parent, but she had it as well, and passed away shortly after Sirius and I finished school. Despite the distance from both of my parents in their own ways, they never made me feel less than when it came to my sexual orientation, and they welcomed Sirius with open arms.”

“It was a relief, too,” Sirius continued. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if Lyall and Hope hadn’t opened their home to me. But, we made it through. We were happy, and when we left school, all we knew for sure was that we needed to be a part of something greater, so when the job opportunity with Magical Kinship presented itself...”

“We knew it was the right thing to do,” Remus whispered, slipping his hand into Sirius’s with a warm smile upon his face.

“Well...” Sirius said, letting out a small sigh. “You’ll probably want to get settled in. Come along upstairs, then, and we’ll show you to your room.”

Harry nodded, following the two men upstairs, and when they came to a door with the initials S.O.B., he deduced quickly that this had to have been Sirius’s childhood bedroom, despite the unfortunate combination of initials. At the mutual nods from Sirius and Remus, Harry took ahold of the doorknob, turning it slowly, and stepping into the room. Inside was a queen-size four-poster, ebony wood bed with canopy and curtains, covered with a crimson duvet with gold lining which matched both of them, and identical bolsters, four of them. There was a Persian rug of corresponding colors at the base of the bed, and there was a bench placed just so with a crimson cushion and gold edging. There was also a black marble mantel just opposite, which boasted an actual fireplace; on the mantel itself was a tambour clock in attractive cherry wood, and there was a mirror just behind that. Beside the bed on each side were ebony wood nightstands, and along the wall beside the door was an impressive ebony bookshelf, filled with various forms of literature. Beside the window, which was framed with crimson and gold curtains, was an impressive secretary desk, complete with a matching chair, as well as a matching cushion to the bench, bedspread, and rug. He noticed two doors on either side of the bed and concluded that one led to a closet, while the other led to a bathroom.

“Will this be all right for you, Harry?” Remus asked.

Harry nodded, putting his duffel bag onto the bench. “Of course,” he replied, wrapping his arms around himself. “Thank you.”

Sirius sighed, looking pained. “Harry, are all your clothes like that?” At the indignant expression the teenager gave to him, Sirius immediately backtracked. “I don’t mean anything by it, Harry, just that they are a couple of sizes too large, and in less-than-savory condition...”

Harry sighed, knowing that he should at least attempt to hear Sirius and Remus out in the future, given that they were literally opening their home to him, after knowing him for less than five minutes, all out of the goodness of their hearts. “It’s all I’ve got, really. The last family I was with had a son of a similar age, but a different size. They... They didn’t like me much, so this was just easier.”

“Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow, so Sirius and I don’t have to go to M.K.,” he explained, and Harry figured that that was what they called the agency in passing. “We can take you downtown to get you some clothes that’ll fit.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry said softly.

“Harry,” Sirius said gently, and his green eyes raised to his, and he felt as if he was looking into the soul of the young man, unknowing completely as to what all had happened to him over the many years before they’d met. “I don’t know if you fully understand what was within the document that Severus and Albus had us sign off on, in order to take you home.”

Harry shook his head. “I just thought that it was a standard fostering placement document. That you two agreed to foster me, and feed me, and let me stay here, and encourage me to go to school and all that, while getting a government stipend, of course—my last family loved that bit,” he said bitterly. “That’s what it entails,” he finished quietly.

“It’s part of it, but I assure you that Sirius and I don’t do this, any of this, for the money,” Remus informed Harry. “We signed a more advanced form of document, Harry, wherein Sirius and I willingly offered up our home, and all that that entails, until you reach your next birthday, meaning that this is your home until you age out of the system.”

Harry swallowed. “Why would you do that?” he whispered. “You barely know me. And don’t tell me that it was because it was the right thing to do. I mean, I’m just Harry...”

“Well, in point of fact, it _was_ the right thing to do,” Sirius explained. “And when Remus and I read your file, we were torn up about it, Harry. We couldn’t believe that someone who has such high marks, and is reportedly a polite young man, could slip through the cracks of the system.”

“I think, if the laws were on our side, we would adopt you immediately,” Remus said, and he felt relieved when Sirius took his hand, confirming his line of thought. “However, the government hasn’t caught up to people like us yet, but, we’re willing to have you here for as long as you like if that is all right with you.”

Harry sighed, feeling relieved that it wasn’t just him, and that Sirius and Remus truly wanted him here, and that he just didn’t want to stay for some odd reason. “Did... Did Severus tell you everything?” he asked them.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Sirius asked.

“Did he tell you that I’m gay?”

“We figured that out for ourselves, before we even met you, due to Severus’s claims that we three were similar, although he wouldn’t confirm or deny our guess,” Remus explained. “As for the rest, we know that you suffered abuse during your childhood, but not the finer details, as that is for you and you only to disclose or not whenever you’re comfortable in doing so.”

Harry nodded, running his hand up and down the ebony wood of his new bed. “Is it all right if I’m not ready just yet?” he asked.

“Harry, until or unless you decide to disclose intimate details of your past with one or both of us, it isn’t any of our business,” Sirius told him. “We just have to know the bare bones, so we have a general idea of how you may react to certain situations. Other than that, we have to wait for you to decide whether or not to tell us.”

“It’s in our fostering contract that we don’t force the child’s hand at any point in time, especially when it comes to the disclosure of abuse,” Remus said softly.

“So, you literally can’t force it out of me?”

“Exactly,” Sirius told him. “So, whenever you’re ready to talk, we’ll be here to listen.”

“And, if that day never comes,” Remus continued, “then, that’s all right, too.”

Harry sighed, nodding, feeling just a little bit better about the situation. “All right, then... Um, would it be all right if I took a shower, and did some writing?”

“Of course, Harry,” Remus told him.

“Is the writing for school?” Sirius asked.

Harry swallowed, looking as if he would elaborate further, but immediately closed himself off from it all. “Yeah, for school,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Just there’s a deadline and I have to get some work done...”

“Of course, Harry,” Remus said gently. “You’ll find soap and fresh towels in the bathroom, just through that door there,” he said, indicating the one further into the room. “If there’s anything you need for your bathroom needs, we’ll pick it up in town tomorrow, when we go and get you some new clothes.”

Harry nodded, smiling at the two of them. “Thank you,” he said softly as they moved back out into the hallway. “No, seriously. Thank you. For everything.”

~*~

Harry learned over the weekend that he would be attending the City of London School, located about eleven minutes away from the Black family home. Remus and Sirius had attended there as youngsters, and it happened to be where they had met as well. After purchasing him a uniform over the weekend, Sirius and Remus escorted Harry to the campus early Monday morning, so as he could meet with the head and select his classes. Harry would be in the upper sixth form, and thus required to take and pass his A-Levels, as the school had already seen and approved his former transcripts.

Harry met with the headmaster of the school, who turned out to be a kind gentleman by the name of Horace Slughorn, who eagerly showed Harry how signing up for classes was done. After the twenty-minute meeting, Harry would be taking physics with Mr. Quirinus Quirrell, history with Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, further mathematics with Mr. Igor Karkaroff, English literature with Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood, geography with Mr. Garrick Ollivander, sociology with Mr. Newton Scamander, and government and politics with Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. Once the signing up period was completed, Headmaster Slughorn handed over a detailed map of the school, informing him that he would have the same schedule as another student, and, therefore, the student had volunteered to escort him around.

“Who will it be, sir?” Harry asked, a little unsure of meeting a new person so quickly.

Headmaster Slughorn looked through some paperwork for a moment before nodding. “Ah. It seems as though the young man who volunteered is Mr. Ronald Weasley.”

Sirius visibly sighed with relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“Thank you, headmaster,” Remus said, gently steering both Harry and Sirius out of the office, as he chuckled under his breath.

“Who’s Ronald Weasley?” Harry asked them.

“That’s me,” said a young man, stepping around the corner down the hallway; he was a few inches taller than Harry, which could have been intimidating, but when he smiled, it reached his blue eyes. “You must be Harry,” he said, sticking out his hand while dragging the other through his red hair. “Don’t bother with all the formalities. Call me Ron.”

Harry was amazed at how immediately at ease he felt in Ron’s presence, and put out his hand then, shaking Ron’s. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

“Ron,” Sirius said warmly, clapping Ron on the shoulder a moment later. “It’s been ages since we saw you last.”

“Last Christmas, wasn’t it?” Remus asked.

Ron let out a chuckle and nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a minute.”

“How’s Hermione doing?” Sirius asked.

“She’s really good,” Ron said, grinning up at the two of them. “My girlfriend, who I assume will want to meet you immediately,” Ron informed Harry, who wasn’t altogether displeased with the idea, come to think of it. “I’d love to catch up more, but I really should show Harry around a bit before class starts in half an hour.”

“Of course,” Remus replied, nodding in understanding. “Remember, Ron, now that you’ll be seeing Harry regularly, you’re always welcome at Grimmauld.”

“Send our best to Molly and Arthur,” Sirius called as he and Remus turned to Harry. “We’ll be here at three to get you, all right?”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, smiling as they mutually squeezed his shoulders and turned, before leaving the school. He turned to face Ron again, who was looking at him rather expectantly and sighed. “All right, all right, I get it,” he said, putting up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “I’m sure you want me to tell you my full story now...”

“Only if you want to, mate,” Ron told him, and Harry felt his eyebrows shooting up then, given that Ron had literally only just met him, and was already proclaiming him his friend. “I’ll tell you mine if you want to hear it.”

“Sure,” Harry said, nodding, as they walked down the hallway.

“Sixth of seven kids,” Ron began, and Harry’s jaw dropped, causing the redhead to laugh. “Bill was first, then Charlie, then Percy, Fred, and George—twins,” he explained, “then me, and finally the girl Mum always wanted, Ginny.”

“Wow,” Harry said, impressed.

“Gin’s been extremely welcoming to ‘Mione—she’s in lower sixth at the girl version of our school, which is just ten minutes away from here,” Ron explained patiently. “But, as an older brother, I have to be all nice to her boyfriend, unfortunately. He goes here—his name’s Draco Malfoy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He was a slick git up until last summer when his dad went to prison,” he said softly, and Harry was a little amazed at how Ron didn’t seem to mind airing this bloke Draco’s dirty laundry. “He did a total one-eighty, and now he, Seamus, Dean, and Neville—my other mates—and I actually don’t mind having him around. He came by the Burrow last summer—my home, you see—and that’s how he and Gin ran into each other. They’ve been inseparable since her birthday last month. Sad thing, too, as Dean’s been trying to chase her down for years, but I think Seamus has got him on the right track...”

“Right track?”

“See, Seamus has been in love with Dean since we all met when we were eleven,” Ron explained with a playful eyeroll. “Now that Dean sees that Gin isn’t an option, he’s coming around to Seamus’s affections, thank god...”

“And Neville?” Harry asked. “What’s he got to say in all this?”

“Nev’s into plants. Like, _really_ into plants,” Ron said. “Good bloke, but it gets annoying every now and again. Luna—that’s ‘Mione and Ginny’s other close friend—is his girlfriend. Luna’s dad is also our English literature teacher, so he was a little nervous about being with her, but Mr. Lovegood just wants his daughter to be happy.”

“What do the rest of your brothers do?” Harry asked, wanting more than anything to delay the topic of his own life story.

“Bill works with his wife, Fleur, with Sirius and Remus,” Ron replied.

Harry blinked. “For Magical Kinship?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. I mean, not to be all invasive, but you’re in the system, yeah?”

“Not anymore,” Harry replied, not minding the question, oddly. “Remus and Sirius signed a document, stating that I’ll be in their care until next July when I age out.”

“Oh, I see,” Ron said, and Harry knew that he was hoping that he’d not crossed a line. “Well, anyhow, my second brother, Charlie, is a player for Liga I, a football club in Romania. He’s a center midfield,” he went on, and Harry nodded, relieved that they would have something to talk about. “And Percy is on his way to becoming an MP, although right now he’s just a barrister, which, apparently, isn’t good enough for him,” he went on, and rolled his eyes, leading Harry to believe that there was some potential bad blood there. “Then, there’s Fred and George, and they own a shop in Downtown London.”

“What do they sell?”

Ron looked around and sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Okay, it’s not exactly a shop. It’s a nightclub,” he whispered.

Harry shrugged. “Why would that matter? I don’t mind,” he said.

Ron raised his eyebrows. “You don’t?”

Harry laughed. “No. I...” He sighed, stopping in his tracks as he felt his shoulders deflating as he felt his demeanor fluctuate completely in the opposite direction. “My mum died when I was born, and my dad lost custody of me the first time when I was five. I was put into care then, but he got his act together when I was eight, and I moved in with him and a childhood friend of his. I went to school while they worked in a knitwear factory, but things got bad because Dad and Peter—his friend—went to a pub every night, spent every last quid, and got completely pissed. So, it got to the point where Dad would look away when Peter would...”

Ron sighed. “When he’d do stuff to you, you mean?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

Ron shook his head. “I’m really sorry that happened, Harry. Please tell me they threw him into the bin, literally.”

Harry laughed darkly. “Yeah. Got twenty for all he did. He got away with it for two years, though, because he started it all when I was eight, and they didn’t get me out of there until I was ten. I’ve been bouncing around, literally, until Sirius and Remus found me on Friday.”

“How’d they find you, then? Through the agency?”

“Something like that,” Harry said as they continued walking down the hallway, and he pulled up his messenger bag further up his shoulder. “My social worker thought of them for me.”

“Who’s your social worker?”

“Severus Snape,” Harry asked. “You know him?”

“Do I know him? ‘Course I know Severus,” Ron said, grinning. “You got yourself a good one. He got ‘Mione adopted by her parents a few years back. That’s how I met her because she went to the M.K. Christmas do last year, and I went to hang out with Bill and Fleur. That’s how I met her, and she introduced me to Severus, of course. Really nice bloke.”

“Well, I suppose I feel a bit better about the entire thing now,” he said softly.

“Remus and Sirius are real nice blokes, don’t worry,” Ron assured him as they turned a corner. “Dad knows them, too. Dad went to school here, and Mum went where Ginny and ‘Mione are now. Dad was in his last year when Sirius and Remus got here, but they always stayed in touch. I’m sure once Mum knows that they’ve got you, she’ll want to have you ‘round for tea and, by Christmas, you’ll have a sweater all your own.”

“A sweater?” Harry asked, not following.

“It’s the Weasley family Christmas tradition,” Ron explained with a laugh. “She meets you, figures out what color would be good for you, and knits you a sweater every year on Christmas, with the first initial of your name right smack in the middle.” Ron looked Harry over and nodded. “She’ll probably go green to match your eyes.”

“What’s it like?” Harry asked softly as they walked. “Having a Mum.”

“Oh, I...” Ron hesitated with that for a moment, appearing as if he wanted to give Harry an honest answer. “I mean, there are good days and bad days, just like there are with anyone you come into regular contact with. I love my mum, but she is barking now and then. She still makes me corned beef sandwiches, even though I hate them, and love her bacon ones... But I wouldn’t trade her for anything. I love her,” Ron told him. “That answer your question?”

Harry nodded. “It does, actually. Thank you.”

Ron flashed him a grin as they began walking again. “Well, I’m sure Mum will be practically adopting you before the month is out. If it’s all right with Sirius and Remus, you can come to the Burrow on Friday, maybe to stay at the weekend. Fred and George still live at home, and ‘Mione is coming, too, plus you’ll meet Draco and Ginny, too. Draco’s always over there; his mum is a bit uptight, you see. Thinks of the Burrow more as a home than the estate...”

Harry felt his eyes pop slightly. “The _estate_?”

“Malfoy Manor,” Ron informed him in a faux haughty voice as they neared a door, and Harry suddenly became aware of the influx of students around them. “Been in the family since the 1600s, or so the arse said before he turned into a good bloke.”

Harry sighed. “Looks like I’ve got a lot to learn...”

“These are hand-me-downs,” Ron said, and Harry looked him over. “Not all of us who go here come from money, Harry. All the Weasleys are on scholarship,” he explained.

Harry smiled at Ron. “Doesn’t matter to me,” he told him. “I really don’t care how much money anyone has. It’s what’s inside that counts, doesn’t it?”

Ron grinned. “You’re going to be my best mate, I can feel it,” he told him before the pair of them slipped into the physics classroom to find a seat.

~*~

Harry was both surprised and delighted that Sirius and Remus had seemed so happy about his weekend invitation to the Burrow. He called Ron that evening, excited, telling him that it was all right with Remus and Sirius if he stayed the weekend, as long as it was all right with his parents as well. Ron immediately put his father on, while Harry handed over the phone to Sirius, and, when the conversation was over a few moments later, it was decided that Draco would drive Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry to the Burrow on Friday after school for the weekend, as Draco was the only one of the bunch to have a car.

Harry had his new duffel packed and ready to go for the weekend excursion on Friday morning before school and would store it inside his school locker until the end of the day. He pulled slightly at his black overcoat, hoping beyond hope that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t mind if someone like him was friends with their youngest son. Of course, he knew by now that they had nothing against the care system as a whole—given Ron’s relationship with Hermione, their longstanding friendship with Sirius and Remus, and Bill and Fleur’s positions at Magical Kinship. He wondered if he should ask Ron about it as he waved off Sirius and Remus at the gates, and was soon met by Ron, so as they could walk to physics together, and knew he needed to come to a decision.

“Will your mum and dad mind?” he asked, not knowing how much longer he could possibly keep his mouth shut, as they came to a stop before his locker, so as he could stow away his things until the end of the day.

“Mind what?” Ron asked, looking confused.

“That I’m gay,” he whispered, not really sure if he wanted the entire student body to know that crucial information just yet.

“Oh,” Ron said, shaking his head and laughing. “Nothing to worry about, mate.”

“Yeah?” Harry wanted to know. “Why not?”

“Charlie,” Ron said simply. “Came out to Mum and Dad during his fourth-year here, when he was fourteen,” he said patiently. “Mum and Dad claimed to have already known about it, and couldn’t have been more supportive.”

“No offense Ron, but Charlie’s their son,” Harry replied, shutting and locking his locker door and moving to follow him. “I’m just a charity case from their friends...”

“Correction: You’re their youngest son’s best mate, and practically the son of said friends of theirs,” Ron said firmly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “ _I’m_ really your best mate?”

Ron grinned at him. “‘Course. Dean has Seamus, in more ways than one, Draco and Nev have been best mates since he joined our little flock, and then there was me. I’m not picking you just ‘cause you’re the only one left without one, Harry. I’m picking you because we have the most in common, plus I like the fact that you’re not going to be stealing my girlfriend.”

Harry blinked. “Wait. You...?”

“‘Course I did,” Ron told him patiently. “Comes with the territory of having a gay brother, plus Hermione brought it up earlier this week when I told her about you,” he said. “Sorry that the paperwork for you to leave campus during lunch wasn’t filed in time.”

“That’s all right,” Harry said. “Next week it should be. And until then, I’ll have plenty of time to know Hermione at the weekend.”

“She’s really excited about meeting you,” Ron assured him as they made their way over to the physics classroom. “So are Mum, Dad, and Ginny. Mum always does a massive spread for Sunday dinner, so we may have some more friends over. Not sure yet, but she always does this incredible roast.”

“I love roasts,” Harry said quietly.

Ron nodded at him. “I know. I also told her that you loved treacle tart, and she’s all set to make a gigantic one this weekend.”

“Ron, she needn’t...”

“Oh, to her she must,” Ron said with a grin, stepping into the classroom just ahead of him. “She will claim you as one of her own before the weekends’ out, Harry, be certain of it.”

Harry got into Draco’s car, a Daimler DS420 limousine 1968 in a rich green color, about twenty minutes after his government and politics lesson, after he, Ron, and Draco had driven over to the girls’ school to collect Hermione and Ginny. The girls, Ginny from the front and Hermione on his right in the back, were peppering him with questions about how he liked London, school, and how much he was looking forward to meeting more of the Weasley family. Harry, unused to this much positive attention, found himself thriving in it and answered every question that was thrown at him. He grinned at Ron and Draco as they rolled their eyes at their girlfriends’ invasiveness, but both knew that there was nothing to worry about, as they were both just being friendly about the entire situation handed to them.

“Twickenham,” Ginny said after they’d been driving for about fifteen minutes, “is a lovely area that is pretty affluent, despite our near-poverty,” the youngest Weasley explained, and Ron put his head into his hands. “Dad had the land in his family since the Norman times, and the farm was built a good five hundred years ago. He and Mum moved in after our Aunt Muriel passed away, and inherited the property justly. Lovely place,” she said softly and took Draco’s hand in hers, her beautiful brown eyes gleaming with affection.

They drove in virtual silence for the next fifteen or so minutes, to the point where they got into the center of what had to be Twickenham. Draco went through it, until he came to an abundance of trees just outside the opposite end, and drove along the provided dirt road. Once the trees parted when they came to the end of it, Harry noticed a sign informing them that they had entered the farming community. After a few farms, each with their own signs were passed by, Draco drove down a cobblestone path beside a lovely looking brick building, pulling to a stop behind a blue Ford Anglia.

“We’re here!” Ginny cried out, launching herself out of the car and bounding around it, to which Draco followed her, grabbing her about the waist, causing the fifteen-year-old to squeal as her boyfriend pulled her closer, kissing her.

“Now, wait a minute,” Ron said, getting out of the car, but Hermione gently yanked him back, and held out her hand, to which he helped her out of Draco’s car.

“Leave them be, Ron,” Hermione reprimanded him gently, and slung her arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him over to her other side as they approached the front door. “Molly!” she called, opening it with her booted foot and strolling in. “We’re here!”

“Oh, Hermione, darling!” came the exuberant shout of Molly Weasley, as she bustled out of the kitchen, a grin on her face. Red curls framed her face, and she had the same eyes as her daughter, as well as the warmth of her smile. She immediately moved to embrace Hermione, running her hand briefly through the younger girl’s bushy hair, before she pulled back, kissing her forehead before she turned and looked at Harry. “And this must be Harry.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry replied.

“None of that, dear,” she said, gently pulling him into a hug, which Harry readily accepted, feeling pleased that Molly seemed to pick up on the fact that he was just as starved for affection as she perceived. “It’s ‘Molly’, of course, my dear,” she assured him, patting him on the face as she pulled back. “Come on. Let us have some tea and biscuits in the kitchen and then we’ll get you settled in upstairs in Ron’s room. All right?”

“Yes, thank you, Molly,” Harry said, and he flashed her a grin as she turned around and moved back towards the kitchen. “Your dad around?” he asked Ron as they moved to follow her.

“Dad usually closes the shop for the weekend around lunch on Fridays, so he’s probably out tinkering in the shed,” Ron explained as they got into the kitchen. “Mum,” he asked, pulling out a chair for Hermione to sit in, and motioning for Harry to sit down himself, “Dad around?”

“Oh, you know your father,” Molly replied, shaking her head with a small smile on her face as she placed a platter of chocolate-dipped shortbread onto the table. “He’s likely looking over that motorbike that someone brought to him last week.”

“Motorbike?” Harry asked quietly.

“Dad owns an automobile repair shop in town,” Ron told Harry brightly, and Harry was pleased that he seemed proud of his father’s work. “He mainly works on cars, but he’ll sometimes get commissions for bikes. Loves it, too. His dad brought him into the business, and he bought it from him just before he married Mum.”

“He’s bloody good at it, too,” Draco said, stepping into the kitchen with Ginny, and was almost immediately pulled into Molly’s arms, and kissed on the cheeks. “Good afternoon, Molly,” he said, grinning at her, before pulling out a chair for Ginny to sit in.

Ginny didn’t take this well, and promptly pushed Draco into the chair himself, whereupon she perched in his lap. “Much better,” she said with a slight giggle and reached forward for a shortbread, which she proceeded to feed to Draco.

“Mum,” Ron whined, obviously uncomfortable with the exchange.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” Molly said firmly, “you know as well as I do that Ginny doesn’t have a problem with your showing affection towards Hermione when you’re here, even when Hermione is her best friend. Take a page out of her playbook, love, and be a bit more considerate, as the only one who seems to have a problem with it is you.”

“Yes, love,” Hermione said, putting her head on Ron’s shoulder. “Do be a bit more considerate, please.”

Ron huffed, crossing his arms, but was momentarily placated when Hermione proceeded to feed him a shortbread as well.

“Afternoon Weasleys!” came a shout from outside the kitchen door then, and Arthur Weasley came through it, his hands stained with grease, and some of his face as well, which he attempted to clean up with a rag that he held.

“Afternoon, Dad!” Ginny and Ron chorused.

“Afternoon, Arthur!” came Molly, Hermione, and Draco’s reply.

“What a day,” Arthur said, quickly moving over to the sink at Molly’s strict look. “Nine cars to repair at the shop—nine!” He kept right on muttering to himself about his day, somehow managing to get the grease off his hands, but Molly soon came over and assisted him with his face. He then moved to the head of the table, and Molly poured him a cup of tea, handing it over to him with a quick kiss to his cheek. “Well, now,” he said, gazing around the table, looking approvingly at both Ron and Hermione, plus Draco and Ginny, before his eyes finally came to rest upon Harry. “And who are you?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry sir,” Harry said quickly, turning his attention completely to the Weasley patriarch in respect. “I’m Harry, sir. Harry Potter.”

“Good lord,” the man replied. “Are you really?” He grinned at Harry. “Well, Ron’s told us all about you, of course,” he went on, helping himself to a piece of shortbread. “When did he get here?” he asked, the question obviously directed at Molly.

“Just a few moments ago, love,” Molly informed him, and Harry noticed that there was a chicken upon the counter, which she seemed to be preparing for their dinner that evening. “You do remember speaking to Sirius about it earlier this week, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, right,” he said quickly, immediately nodding. “Well, Harry, you must tell us all about yourself then, seeing that Ron has claimed you as his best friend.”

“Not much to tell,” Harry replied, letting out a chuckle. “I’m a gay teenager involved in the care system because my parents are gone because my mum died when I was born, and my dad drank himself into a stupor, only to be run over by a double-decker. Not to mention that his supposed best friend liked to do stuff to me from the time I was nine-years-old.”

The man looked shocked at Harry’s blunt honesty, while Molly looked concerned, Hermione and Ginny devastated, Ron amazed, and Draco... Well, he certainly didn’t need a picture painted, as he knew about Harry’s story already. “I... I’m sorry, Harry,” came Arthur Weasley’s voice, his dark eyes lowering themselves. “I didn’t mean to pry...”

Harry sighed. “Sorry about being defensive, sir,” he replied, hunching his shoulders, hoping that befriending the Weasley family hadn’t been shot in the face. “I’ve moved around a lot, so burning bridges now and again didn’t appear to matter. However, Sirius and Remus have resolved to keep me until I age out next summer, so I suppose I should curb my temper, and watch what I say from now on, Mr. Weasley.”

“No, Harry,” came the reply. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I would never wish anyone to go through what you did because it’s sickening and unfair. I promise I won’t bring it up again...”

“No, it’s all right,” Harry told him, swallowing. “I was out of line, I’m sorry. I...” He suddenly got to his feet then, not saying anything as he moved for the kitchen door, and pushed it open, walking on the wide expanse of land offered to him. He stepped out onto the grass, hearing the bleats of sheep and goats, the snorts of pigs, the clucks of chickens, and the moos of cows with each step he took. He’d known that the Weasleys had a farm, but the notion that he was literally standing on a working one was foreign to him. All Harry had known were back-alley flats and such growing up, as well as the stench of poverty which had seemed to cling to him at each and every turn, so the term “fish out of water”, especially around such a normal family, seemed to fit him like a glove.

“Harry?”

Harry turned around then and spotted Ron and Hermione standing behind him, the voice had come from the latter. Despite only knowing Ron for five days, and Hermione less than an hour, he felt secure with them in a way that he’d never done before. Yes, he enjoyed Draco’s company, and Ginny seemed like an all right person, but there was something about how Ron and Hermione reacted and interacted with him that felt like home, and he was not about to fuck any of this up, to the point where he would lose all that he had gained.

“Are you all right, mate?” Ron asked.

“Look, I... I’m sorry about what happened back there,” he said.

Ron shook his head. “Don’t be. Dad has his moments of curiosity and intensity. It’s not you, I promise, and Mum, Ginny, and Draco are giving him a firm talking-to.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to you, Harry,” Hermione said gently, “but, until or unless you want to bring it up, we won’t be discussing it, any of it.”

“How was the care system for you?” Harry asked.

Hermione sighed. “My biological parents gave me up because my twin brother, Dudley, would do irreparable damage to property and so on. But, he had Vernon and Petunia wrapped around his little finger and was able to cast blame and doubt upon me. They literally dumped me on the steps of Magical Kinship one morning, in the dead of winter. Severus found me in the snow and took me into the place, and somehow managed to find me a family to love and accept me for who I am, just Hermione.”

“That’s all I ever wanted, too,” Harry said softly. “I... I didn’t want to be anyone extraordinary, but I suppose that was all shot in the face...”

“Was the trial in news?” Ron asked.

It was a reasonable question, but Harry shook his head. “No. I’m not famous because of the trial,” he said softly.

“Then, why are you famous, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked up at her, then at Ron, and back again. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “But you’ve got to promise to not tell anyone else.”

“We promise,” Ron assured him.

Harry swallowed. “All right, then. Here goes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My description of the Burrow here is based on the outside of Folly Farm, located in Sulhamstead, West Berkshire, UK.


	3. Syntactic Category

Severus Snape was slightly taken aback at the phone call from Molly Weasley, informing him that he had been invited to the Burrow for Sunday brunch. Thankfully, he was relatively ahead of all his casework and would be able to attend. He knew, given Hermione’s relationship with young Ronald, that she would be in attendance, and it was always pleasant to see her and catch up with her. She was a bright young woman with a wonderful future, now that Mr. and Mrs. Granger had adopted her and set her on a good track, both educationally and personally, and she seemed to be thriving.

Severus got his own car out of his flat’s garage, and immediately drove directly to the Burrow in West Berkshire. His car, a black 1976 Ford Cortina GT, was his pride and joy and had been since his mother had managed to pinch enough pennies to buy it for him upon the occasion of his sixteenth birthday. He had upgraded to a CD player, replacing the cassette tape one, at some point at the beginning of the decade, and never went anywhere without the _Please, Please Me_ album by _The Beatles_.

Severus took good care of the thing, too, getting the beast of an automobile washed and checked over regularly, and Arthur Weasley always gave it a complimentary once-over whenever he found himself over at the Burrow. He had bonded with the Weasley patriarch over the thing, and the man had always shown Severus trade-secrets about the business and allowed Severus to see whatever projects he’d brought home. Severus appreciated such things immensely, and yet he always kept his pocketbook handy just in case, knowing that the Weasleys really could use the money, and he didn’t feel right having the talented Weasley patriarch constantly looking over his car for free.

Severus made it to the center of town, smiling fondly at the various businesses there, and pulled off into the parking lot at the small, family-owned grocery store that he’d frequented whenever he was in town. Stepping inside and nodding in greeting towards the wife, who ran the front counter, he went to the back of the store towards the butchers, where he obtained some fresh meats and cheeses from the patriarch of the family. He passed through the wine aisle, picking up an Italian red that Molly had spoken fondly of on more than one occasion, as well as a fresh loaf of bread before he returned to the front counter. He paid for the food and wine and spoke to the woman for a moment; her name was Mrs. Wright, and her husband was Mr. Wright, and they always spoke enthusiastically about their only child, a son called Bowman, who would one day inherit the shop for himself.

Severus thanked Mrs. Wright as he always did before he went on his way, meandering back to the parking lot. He unlocked his car and placed his purchases on the passenger seat, before getting in himself and driving the rest of the way to the Burrow. He parked behind Draco’s car and got out himself, grabbing the purchases again and tucking his paperback copy of _The Wicked Count and the Secret Masquerade_ within his peacoat before making his way towards the front door of the Weasley house.

“Oh, Severus!” Molly greeted, immediately pulling him closer. “Come in, come in!”

“Thank you, Molly,” Severus replied, and handed over the bag from the shop.

“Oh, you delightful man!” she crowed, kissing him on the cheek and squeezing his shoulder and drawing him in further. “The children are upstairs with the twins, and Arthur is tinkering with something or other in the garage beyond. Sirius and Remus haven’t shown up yet, but you know how they can be,” she said with a laugh.

“Yes, I can,” Severus confirmed.

“Well, now,” she began again, and her eyebrows raised at the spine of the book creeping out from within his coat. “That’s the latest one, then?”

“Yes,” Severus said with a laugh, and pulled it out, permitting Molly to look over the cover. “I do hope the shop here sells them.”

Molly laughed, rolling her eyes. “Of course they do. Thomas and Merope are doing quite swimmingly for such a small area of a larger town,” she told him. “Tom Jr. is studying his doctorate over at Oxford but comes down regularly to help with the place.”

“There should be more establishments like _Tom’s Tomes_ ,” Severus remarked fondly, recalling the occasions of shopping there, and informing Molly to take Hermione there, which she had done, on more than one occasion. “Well, if it is not objectionable to you, I would appreciate the use of your parlor to read a bit before dinner.”

“Of course, dear,” Molly said gently with that charismatic smile of hers. “You know where it is, and you know where to find one of us if you need anything.” Molly promptly reached out and removed his coat, and moved to hang it on the peg. “Go along now, and no spoilers, thank you very much,” she said, grinning at him.

Severus chuckled, knowing what had happened when he had inadvertently spoiled the last book for her, _The Wicked Count and the Dagger to the Heart_ , in which the marquis tells him that their supposed arrangement—which hadn’t been exclusive—could no longer be so. He turned around then and made his way down the entirety of the hallway, and entered the parlor, noticing with an amused smile that Hermione’s ginger cat, Crookshanks, was also there for the weekend, and curled up upon the sofa. Crossing the room, Severus invited himself onto the piece of furniture and opened the book, to which the cat made himself known, and invited himself onto the social worker's lap.

Severus stroked the animal absentmindedly, and realized that he was on the seventh chapter of the story, aptly called, ‘ _In Which the Count and Marquis Prepare for the Masquerade_ ’. He knew that he shouldn’t be so into the entire storyline as a whole, and he was quite embarrassed that what so many people would describe as drivel was considered literature these days. However, he found that he couldn’t get out of his head the notion that the green-eyed count felt so alone in the world, and the raven-haired marquis seemed to be there to save him from it all.

“ _Peverell Park had not seen a masquerade ball in nearly half a century, so the notion that Count Hadrian Peverell himself was about to pull off such a feat was a rather daunting task for the staff to even entertain. The staff had, by this time, become quite aware of Marquis Sebastian Prince’s involvement with their lord and master, and because the count was so powerful—and paid their wages to boot—they knew that it wasn’t any of their business. However, they also knew that the former count, Lord Fleamont, and his lady wife, Lady Euphemia, would likely not approve of the relationship, despite the noble blood between them._

_‘I do so wish that the general public themselves could just look away for the entirety of the celebrations,’ Hadrian mused for the umpteenth time to Sebastian, about a fortnight before the celebrations._

_‘And why do you wish that?’ Sebastian queried._

_Hadrian shot Sebastian a loathsome look, despite the feelings he had for the man. ‘You are aware that, upon the occasion of my twenty-first birthday, in two weeks’ time, to coincide with the ball itself, that I must announce my engagement to a proper lady of the peerage. How can I do so, when I...?’_

_Sebastian got to his feet, effectively rendering his young lover silent, and crossed over to him, from where the man was lying rather delectably upon the chaise longue. Without hesitation, he pulled at Hadrian’s collar, successfully pulling him upwards, and molding his lips to the lovely twenty-year-olds’ which had successfully wormed their way into his cold and bleak heart. ‘I know that you care for me, love,’ the marquis told him gently, ‘but our love story was always doomed to end in tragedy.’_

_‘No, don’t say that,’ Hadrian begged, his beautiful green eyes filling with tears. ‘Please don’t say that, Sebastian. I need you. I’ll always need you...’_

_Sebastian sighed at his lover’s words and allowed Hadrian’s hands to wind themselves into his raven hair. ‘I know you believe that now, love, but...’_

_‘I’ll_ always _believe it, whether you decide to do so or not,’ Hadrian said, his tone determined, as he slammed his body into his marquis’, and molded his lips to his. ‘Please... I need you, Sebastian. I need you inside me, to mark me, to claim me. I can’t marry anyone else, because I’ll never love anyone else. I love you, and it shall always be you...’_

_‘Hadrian...’ Sebastian whispered._

_‘Do you think I wanted to see others?’ Hadrian whispered, his lips barely a hairbreadth away from his lover’s. ‘Of course I didn’t; not any of them! However, you must be aware by now of the reputation you’ve got, bedding half the young men throughout England. How was I supposed to compare to any of them? I was untouched when you had me the first time, Sebastian. I’d never allowed anyone in my bed, save for you, and to those who asked, I had them banned from my house, from my life, because I was so fearful of giving that part of myself to anyone. But then came you, you who I could not refuse because I fell so head over heels in love with you that I could not imagine another day without you...’_

_Sebastian didn’t need to hear another word, and slammed his lips to Hadrian’s, gathering up his wicked count into his arms, and pushing him downwards, back onto the chaise. As he did his best to remove those bothersome trousers from the lithe and tightly muscled body of his young lover, he managed to get them open and fondled his eager cock and balls. ‘I have never given my heart to another, man or woman, my Hadrian,’ Sebastian whispered, lowering his lips to the erect member of his lover, ‘for I could not, for when I saw you that first time, all was lost, as it is yours.’_

_‘Sebastian, my Sebastian,’ Hadrian moaned, arching into Sebastian’s touch, knowing that he had to find a way to be with this man forever, for not being with him for even a day was..._ ”

“Severus?”

Severus suddenly remembered where he was, and he felt all the hairs upon his body stand on end when he heard the voice in the doorway. Slamming the book shut and growing red in the face, his eyes raised and met those of Harry Potter himself, who was white as a sheet, eyes wide. “I... I sincerely hope that you’re not aware of these books,” he said, automatically hating himself for acknowledging the books’ existence in the first place.

Harry swallowed, all under Severus’s watchful gaze, and Severus had to grit his teeth in an effort to risk the temptation to drag his tongue over the captivating teenager’s Adam’s apple, which bobbed in the teenager’s delectable throat. “I am sorry if this disappoints you, but I am perfectly aware of them, Severus,” he replied.

“Well, you’re far too young to be,” Severus snapped, and leapt to his feet, surprised when the teen didn’t draw himself backward at the sudden movement. “Why are you here, then?”

“Molly says that dinner’s ready,” Harry said awkwardly, wrapping one of his arms around his slender frame, which already seemed to have broadened slightly, in the nine days he’d been in Sirius’s and Remus’s care. “She’s about to plate everything up, and Sirius and Remus have just arrived... Molly sent me to go and get you...”

Severus schooled his features then, knowing that he could hardly get angry at Harry for bothering him in a house that belonged to neither party. “Yes, of course. Well, we’d best get out there, then...”

Harry nodded, bending down and clicking his tongue. “Come on, Crookshanks,” he said, and the orange cat immediately bolted from the couch and bounded towards him, and Harry scooped the animal into his arms. He said nothing further as they walked into the kitchen together, but Severus noticed that his flush, which had gone all the way up to his ears and down to his neck, had not yet vanished, and Severus wondered why on earth that could be.

~*~

Brunch that Sunday mid-morning at the Burrow had been a pleasant affair, as it was always wonderful to see Hermione and catch up with her. However, after he had fetched him from the parlor, Harry had been surprisingly quiet towards him in the aftermath. Although Severus attempted to banish such thoughts from his mind, he found that he was unable to do so completely, and wondered what he had said or done to evoke such a reaction from the green-eyed teen.

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, and Severus was hard at work with his latest case, about a three-year-old girl who was called Victoire Montague, who had been abandoned by her parents, a native French couple who hadn’t appeared to want a child in the first place. When Severus met the young girl, who was blonde-haired and blue-eyed and an all-around delight, he found that, considering that French was her first language, it would be beneficial to bring in Fleur on the assignment. Calling in the younger social worker, Fleur immediately developed a rapport with the girl, and quickly wanted to introduce her to Bill. By lunchtime, the paperwork had been signed by Bill and Fleur Weasley to foster young Victoire, whom the pair were already attempting to teach English to, so as she could attend a British school.

Severus was quite close to literally patting himself on the back, so much so that, around three-thirty, he was a little surprised to have a phone call from Penelope. “Yes, Miss Clearwater?” he asked into his receiver.

“Pardon me, Mr. Snape, but you’ve a visitor,” she said gently.

“Who, may I ask, is it?” he queried.

“Miss Granger, sir,” came the reply.

“Send her right in, please, Miss Clearwater,” Severus told her.

“Right away, sir,” she said quickly.

Severus got to his feet as he heard the high-class school shoes of Hermione tapping on the floor just outside his office, and, when the door opened, he smiled warmly at her. “Ah, Hermione,” he greeted, walking around his desk and embracing her. “How were your classes this week?” he wanted to know, gesturing her to sit in the offered chair as he prepared them cups of tea. “I trust they weren’t too filled with dunderheads...”

“It is difficult when your two closest friends attending the same school you are just so happen to be a full year behind you,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “Ron’s former girlfriend, Lavender, goes there as well, and she’s in my year...”

“She knows you’re with Ron, then?” Severus asked, putting bags of Tetley into their mugs and waiting for the water to boil.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Hermione told him, nibbling at her lower lip. “Apparently, they were together last year, and for a period of about three months. They ended things about eight months before Ron and I commenced our relationship, and she seems a bit...”

“Envious?” came Severus’s guess.

“Unfortunately so,” Hermione replied, watching as the kettle boiled, and Severus poured them a cup of tea each. “Not very much one can do about it, I suppose. Ron and I are in love, and I think she deeply resents that...”

“Perhaps young Lavender will soon find something, or someone, else to occupy her time in future,” Severus mused, bringing over the cups—milk and two sugars for Hermione, and black for himself—and setting them onto his desk. He moved to sit down himself, quickly smiling across at her. “Now, not that I don’t love our visits, but what does bring you here to M.K., my dear? Are Milton and Christina treating you well?”

“Exceptionally so,” Hermione said quickly. “I wanted to come here to discuss something of importance, but it’s got nothing to do with either of them.”

“Very well, then,” Severus said, nodding. “Tell me.”

Hermione straightened in her chair. “As you know, I’m on track to attend classes at Oxford once my graduation from the City of London School for Girls is final next June,” she said carefully.

Severus nodded. “I am. I don’t remember if I congratulated you or not.”

“You did, don’t worry,” she told him, flashing him a quick smile. “Well, I’ve been thinking as to what my major will be...”

“I assume Milton and Christina have encouraged dentistry,” Severus put in.

Hermione laughed. “They’ve brought it up, once or twice, and I’ve been to their practice several times over the past few years...” She shrugged her shoulders. “As much as I appreciate what they do, it doesn’t hold the same fascination for me as it does for them. As such, I’ve had to do quite a bit of research when it comes to potential majors, and I believe I’ve come to a decision, which is where you come in, Severus.”

“I’m all ears, Hermione,” Severus told her.

“I’ve decided to go into social work,” Hermione told him, her cheeks flushing then. “I don’t know what would have happened, had you not found me that day, and I shall always be indebted to you for doing so, and to finding me my mum and dad. As such, I believe that this is a most appropriate career path for me.”

Severus smiled. “You would make a wonderful social worker, Hermione.”

“Well, thank you,” she said softly. “I’ve begun the preliminary research, and it’s encouraged that you shadow a social worker of your choice, one who is certified by the board, and one that the dean, your advisor, and your major coordinator approves of. Once these steps are in place—which I’m quite sure they ultimately will be—I would appreciate it if you would consent to being the social worker I shadow.”

Severus curbed his eyes from filling with tears. “Well, I would be honored,” he told her. “As long as Albus approves it...”

“He has,” Hermione assured him. “School ended early this afternoon, and I secured a meeting with him beforehand.”

Severus chuckled. “Of course you did,” he said. “Well, then, I shall make sure that I am open to you when the time comes for you to shadow me.”

“You will?!” cried Hermione, bouncing out of her seat and darting around the desk, whereupon she threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said over and over again, obviously pleased with the entirety of the situation. “You’re amazing, I hope you’re aware of that, Severus Snape!”

~*~

_Severus remembered the day that he had discovered Hermione as if it was yesterday. Since he was one of the few social workers without a family—Minerva was married at the time, and Pomona and Filius were seeing one another, plus Albus had his two younger siblings to see over the holidays—he was expected to arrive promptly at the office to open it up. Not that he minded in the slightest; it was a formality at this point, even though serious cases could potentially crop up, it’s not as if he himself expected anything._

_He parked in his space in the senior social worker section of the cark park, and made his way from his car, holding tightly to his very important notes, and made his way down the lane of sidewalk towards the front entrance. What he was not prepared to see, however, was that of a brown-eyed, bushy-haired little girl, who blinked owlishly up at him, stuffed into the corner beside the main door to Magical Kinship, likely attempting to preserve her warmth. As he stood there, filled momentarily with shock, he inventoried the girls’ clothing—a red sweater dress, green tights, black Mary Janes—and nothing else._

_“Hello,” Severus said carefully as he stepped closer, and wasn’t at all surprised when the girl shrunk back and away from him. “Are you lost, little one?”_

_The girl gulped but nevertheless shook her head. “No, sir,” she whispered, an accent reminiscent of the Surrey dialect within her little voice. “I... My mummy and daddy don’t want me anymore,” she said softly and, almost as if she had just now grasped the enormity of the situation, her face quickly crumpled, her dark eyes filling with tears._

_Severus gritted his teeth to prevent a litany of curses aimed at the foolishness of the girls’ parents, knowing that that could potentially frighten the little girl. “It is all right, love,” he told her gently, although it was quite clearly not all right. “What is your name?”_

_“Hermione Jean Dursley,” came the reply, although her voice shook._

_“Very well, Hermione,” Severus said, moving past her and unlocking the main door. “My name is Severus.”_

_“Nice to meet you,” Hermione replied softly._

_“I am one of the senior social workers here,” Severus continued, “and I think I can help you. Would you like to come inside?” He watched her hesitation then, and smiled. “I am quite sure your parents warned you against strangers, but you seem like a very smart girl. I promise all we’ll do is sit in my office, get warm, have some hot chocolate, and talk. All right?”_

_Likely swayed by the promise of hot chocolate, Hermione nodded and slipped after Severus into the warmth of the front lobby. Severus shut and locked the door behind him, aware that no one else had signed up to work that day, and gestured for Hermione to follow him down the hallway and towards his office. Unlocking the second door, he held it open for Hermione to step through, and she did, moving promptly over to the cushioned chair provided for guests._

_Severus hung up his coat and scarf upon the series of pegs beside the door, disgusted with the Dursley family for not dressing Hermione appropriately, given that snow had begun to fall in the area a good quarter of an hour ago. He made his way promptly over to the kitchenette to get started on the promised hot chocolate, relieved that he had whipped cream, marshmallows, and candy canes at this time of year. He opened the fridge as he waited for the water to boil, seeing that he had a bit of food—cold cuts and cheese in the fridge, as well as mayonnaise and mustard, plus some bread on the counter—all of which he’d bought the day before._

_“Would you like a sandwich, Hermione?” he asked._

_Hermione nodded. “Yes, please, sir.”_

_“Call me ‘Severus’,” he told her gently, smiling at her from over his shoulder. “I’ve got chicken, salami, and turkey for the meats, cheddar, provolone, swiss, and Wensleydale for the cheese, and mayonnaise and mustard. Plus, some sourdough, white, white, and marble rye for bread.”_

_“Chicken on sourdough with cheddar and mayonnaise, please, Severus,” Hermione told him, and flashed him a quick smile herself, although the poor girl still appeared unsure._

_Severus nodded, plating up her sandwich, as well as a salami on marble rye with mustard for himself. He remembered having some bags of crisps on a high shelf of his cupboard, and he smiled as Hermione selected a cheddar and sour cream variety, while he took salt and vinegar for himself. Once the water had boiled, he brought over Hermione’s sandwich and her hot chocolate first, before bringing over his own sandwich and hot drink, which he put upon his desk, smiling slightly as he watched Hermione pulling her chair closer, to ensure that she wouldn’t get crumbs or spill her drink upon the floor._

_“So, where are you from, my dear?” Severus asked._

_“Farnham, in Surrey, sir, on Crondall Lane,” Hermione replied, and Severus was amazed that this Dursley family would seek to drive over an hour to ‘get rid of’ their daughter._

_“Do you have brothers and sisters?”_

_“One brother, Dudley. We’re twins, but he came out first,” she explained._

_Severus nodded. “Why do you think your parents wanted to get rid of you?”_

_“Dudley,” she said softly. “He’s not a very nice boy. He... He would hit me or make a mess of something within the household, and Mummy and Daddy always thought it was me. After that, Dudley kept wrecking things and blaming me. Then they said I was far too much trouble, so they brought us up to London for some Christmas shopping, but they just put me on the steps here, and told me that I wouldn’t be coming home with them, as they didn’t want me anymore...” The girl’s voice broke, and she put her head into her hands and wept, some of her hair moving slightly to the side, where Severus could clearly see bruises in various forms of healing, starting upon her neck, and his stomach churned._

_It seemed to be a clear-cut case of child abuse and, despite the fact that it seemed as if Hermione was the only child afflicted directly, there would need to be a report done on the entirety of the Dursley family, just to make sure that Dudley wasn’t abused as well. If it were up to Severus, he’d personally like to see that family locked up and have the key thrown away, but he was no copper, that was for certain. As he gazed at the frail child that was Hermione Dursley, he knew that, as it was his duty, he would have to figure out a way to help her and fast._

_“Hermione,” he said gently, and the girls’ sobs subsided for the moment as she lifted her tear-stained face upwards. “I need to make a telephone call. Don’t worry,” he said quickly, due to her sharp intake of breath, “I won’t be calling the Dursleys. I’ll be calling Albus, a close friend of mine, the one who runs this place.”_

_Hermione nodded, but her lower lip trembled. “All right, Severus.”_

_Severus gave the young girl a smile—she couldn’t have been more than six-years-old—and moved to pick up his phone. He dialed Albus’s personal phone number and listened to the rings; Aberforth and Ariana were likely at Albus’s residence that day, along with their families. When the phone picked up, and Albus answered, Severus breathed a sigh of relief._

_“Albus, I’m sorry for the call,” he said quickly._

_“Severus, my boy, it’s quite all right,” Albus replied in that typical gentle tone of his. “Aberforth is regaling his children and our nieces and nephews about his time in the service. Did you know that his code name was ‘Goat’?”_

_“Yes, I seem to recall that,” Severus replied. “Albus, we’ve a situation here at M.K.,” he said quickly, knowing that he had to get the information out, and quickly. “We’ve got ourselves a case of an A.C.,” he said, knowing that it was unlikely that Hermione would be aware of the code term for ‘abandoned child’._

_“Oh, I see,” Albus said gravely, and Severus could almost see him scratching at his beard in a moment of contemplation. “Age and sex, then?”_

_“Hermione,” Severus said quietly, covering the receiver of the phone, “tell me, love. How old are you now?”_

_“Six years and two months and sixteen days,” she replied promptly._

_Severus felt his lips twitching upwards in a smile at the very detailed answer before returning to the phone call. “She is six-years-old,” he informed Albus._

_“Right. And her name?”_

_“Hermione Jean Dursley,” Severus informed him._

_“Hermione. Lovely name,” Albus commented. “Well, as you know, many relief foster carers aren’t available, especially at this time of year. Before I left the office last night, I went over the books and, according to them, we don’t have any in our network. Where is she from?”_

_“Surrey,” Severus told him._

_Albus made a noise of distaste. “Absolutely not,” he told him, and Severus knew that Albus’s tone brokered no argument. “Fenrir’s Friendship Group is hardly a decent place to send children to. Their main social worker, Bellatrix Lestrange, does little more than frightening the poor things. No, absolutely not. I shall come down myself and collect her, Severus. She can stay with Ariana and the children for the night—”_

_“No,” Severus said, unknowing as to why he felt such a strong air of protection over the small girl. “I’ll take her, Albus. I have an idea of who would be a good placement for her, but they’re in Australia until after the holidays. I’ll call them up as soon as possible but, until then, there is plenty of room at my flat, and I’m certified for it, you know I am.”_

_Albus breathed steadily through his nose then in a moment of contemplation. “Yes,” he agreed after a moment. “Very well, then. Go out shopping with the girl and get everything she needs, and I’ll make sure you’re reimbursed for it. Take the rest of the day off and close M.K., and see that the family you intend for her is contacted soon.”_

_“Can do, Albus,” Severus said. “Thank you.”_

_“Not a problem at all,” Albus said softly, his voice filled with assurances. “Happy Christmas, my boy. And do remember that you’re coming to the staff party on Christmas Eve. Bring Hermione.”_

_“I will; she could use some holiday cheer... Happy Christmas, Albus,” Severus told him, cutting the call. “Well, now, Hermione, it seems as though Albus approves of me looking after you.”_

_Hermione, who had taken the opportunity to daintily finish her sandwich and hot chocolate during the duration of the phone call, nodded. “Yes. But you mentioned another family?”_

_“I did, yes,” Severus said gently. “Friends of mine, wonderful people, who I believe will be an excellent fit for you. They’re out of town at the moment, but will be back in the first week of the New Year. They’re dentists.”_

_Hermione gave a small nod. “Yes, I see.”_

_“In the meantime,” Severus said, getting to his feet and pulling his coat and scarf off the peg, “I am going to be closing the office for the day. You and I will be going to the shopping district to get you some appropriate clothes and anything else you might need. I’ve a guest bedroom in my flat, and it’s a rather nice place. I think you will like it very much.”_

_Hermione nodded tentatively, and moved to follow Severus out of the office, and seemed to be relieved when he accepted her holding his hand. “Thank you.”_

_“Not a problem, love,” Severus said, leading her from the hallway and into the lobby, whereupon he brought them outside again, and locked up the space. “Since you will be with me for over a fortnight, you will have to tell me your likes and dislikes when it comes to food. Are you allergic to anything?”_

_Hermione shook her head. “Not allergic, no. But I don’t like spicy things...”_

_Severus nodded as they made their way over to the car park. “Many children don’t, so that’s quite all right,” he assured her. He put her into the backseat of his car and made sure that she knew how to buckle the seatbelt. Then, he went round to the front and got on the drivers’ side, and promptly left the car park and drove immediately towards Oxford Street, knowing that Ariana had requested items from a shop called Bonpoint._

_Severus found some parking along the street and pulled into a vacant spot, and immediately fetched Hermione from the back of the vehicle. He took her hand and moved with her towards the shop, where a lovely woman called Andromeda met them. After taking Hermione’s measurements and such, she found out her favorite colors and took her on a tour of the entire store, letting her pick and choose whatever she wanted. She then asked Severus if it was all right if she helped Hermione in the fitting room, and Severus immediately agreed to the request. Once the excursion was over, Hermione had dresses, pants, blouses, T-shirts, shoes, jackets, tights, and headbands for every occasion._

_When they moved on from the clothing boutique—as Severus truly didn’t have another word in his repertoire to describe such a place—they moved on quickly to Debenhams, so as to get some things for the room Hermione would be occupying back at the flat. He smiled at her gasp of wonder as they stepped into the department store, which had been founded back in 1813, and she seemed truly amazed at the place. As they found the bedroom section, an employee made themselves known and assisted them with getting both top and fitted sheets, a ruffled bed skirt, a matching velvet duvet and pillow shams, as well as outer pillows and a goose down comforter to finish off the thing._

_“It’s a lovely frame,” Severus told Hermione as their purchases were rung up. “It’s got these lovely curtains and a canopy upon it. The room itself will look lovely with all the pink you picked out because it’s a creamy off-white color.”_

_“I’m sure it’s perfect,” Hermione told him, smiling._

_They left the store, and Hermione seemed a little surprised when Severus didn’t return immediately to the car, but easily fell into step with him, her white peacoat flowing elegantly around her. They stopped at a shop called Flourish and Blotts just down the street, and Severus promptly went inside, easily maneuvering the purchases of Hermione’s new wardrobe. He found a kind-hearted woman willing to show Hermione the chapter books in the children’s section, and Hermione was fully in her element. She selected_ The BFG _and_ The Witches _by Roald Dahl,_ The Paper Bag Princess _by Robert Munsch,_ The Castle in the Attic _by Elizabeth Winthrop,_ Sarah, Plain and Tall _by Patricia MacLachlan,_ The Ring of Endless Light _by Madeline L’Engle,_ Charmed Life _by Diana Wynne Jones_ , _and_ Jumanji _by Chris Van Allsburg_.

 _Severus also selected for her_ The Magicians of Caprona _and_ Witch Week _, which were also by Diana Wynn Jones, as it was the sequel and third book in the_ Charmed Life _series. Once the books had been paid for, Severus and Hermione went back out onto Oxford Street; it had started to snow again, so Severus quickly got Hermione back into the car so as she wouldn’t go slipping and sliding down the sidewalk. Severus promptly drove them back to his flat and was touched when Hermione moved to help him with all the purchases that they’d gotten for her._

 _The pair of them managed to make it upstairs in three trips, and Severus immediately set to work on washing the blankets, shams, and sheets. Hermione, meanwhile, was a little tired, and ventured into the living room with one of her new books—_ The BFG _—and began reading it in silence. By the time Severus moved to take the new items from the washer and place them into the dryer, Hermione had fallen asleep. Severus smiled to himself, putting all of her other new books upon the shelves of her new bedroom, and stripped the bed of the standard sheets and things he had had upon it before. He also moved to cut the tags off her new clothes and wash those as well, knowing that Hermione had taken a liking to a pretty green nightgown out of the bunch, and would likely want to wear that to bed with her new slippers._

_Once her bed was made, Severus lifted Hermione carefully from the couch and placed her into it, knowing that he would eventually wake her up to negotiate a takeaway for dinner. As he would be off for the foreseeable future, he decided that they could visit the market tomorrow. Once her clothes had finished in the dryer, Severus folded them expertly and brought them into the spare bedroom, and placed them in the dresser and wardrobe provided. Once this was done, Severus returned to the living room himself, and sat up on the couch, pulling his little folder of takeaway menus towards him, wondering what Hermione would ultimately help select._

_Hermione roused herself just after four-thirty, and ventured into the living room; she was still wearing the pants and T-shirt she had chosen to wear from the children’s boutique earlier that day, and although she had removed her shoes, her feet still boasted the white ruffled socks. She gave Severus a tentative smile and moved towards the couch, and perched beside him. Severus was slightly taken aback when she rested her head upon his shoulder, and Severus, greatly daring, gently carded his fingers through her hair. Much to his amazement, Hermione only seemed to move closer at his touch, so he kept on doing it._

_“What’s all this, Severus?” she asked a few moments later, indicating the pile of takeaway menus in his lap._

_“Places where we can order dinner,” Severus replied. “What do you like?”_

_Hermione reached out and thumbed through the places, her expressions at various eateries causing Severus to clear his throat to prevent himself from laughing. Finally, Hermione came to one and looked it over, opening it, and smiling at various pictures of dishes that the restaurant provided. “This one,” she said promptly, and handed over the menu._

_“Ah, The Leaky Cauldron,” Severus remarked fondly, as it was one of his favorites. “It’s a British pub and just a few blocks away from here. Well, then, what would you like?”_

_“The roast dinner,” Hermione told him._

_“With Yorkshire puddings, roasted veg, and boiled potatoes?” he asked._

_Hermione nodded. “Yes, please, Severus.”_

_Severus smiled fondly at her. “Very well, then. Sounds delicious,” he said, continuing to smile as Hermione grinned at him, handing him the phone, her brown eyes watching him as he dialed up the number. “Tom? It’s Severus,” he said. “Two roast dinners, with all the trimmings, please,” he said, flashing Hermione a conspiratory smile._

~*~

Severus stepped onto the sidewalk in Islington, London, ready and prepared for his one-month visit to Grimmauld Place. As practiced, Sirius and Remus would meet Severus at the door, and they would discuss how Harry had been settling in these past four weeks. Then, Severus would speak to Harry on his own, before a final meeting with all four of them, and then Severus could be on his way, back to Magical Kinship, to write his report.

Promptly at four, Severus tapped on the front door of Grimmauld, and Sirius and Remus came promptly to the knock. Severus smiled at them, shaking both their hands in turn before permitting Remus to take his coat and scarf, while Sirius showed him down the hallway and into the living room, Remus following. He accepted the offer to sit, as well as a cup of tea and a biscuit, and the three co-workers caught up for a few moments. Finally, when Severus knew that they all had schedules to keep, he put aside his finished tea and nibbled biscuit, and brought out his notes.

“First and foremost, how is Harry?” he asked.

“Quiet,” Sirius replied, and visibly melting with relief as Remus wrapped his hand in his.

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” Severus quipped.

“Not typically, no,” Remus told him. “It’s just that, we’re afraid that he’s hiding something from us when we think it would benefit him to share.”

“Not always,” Severus said calmly. “He may just need a bit more time to adjust. It hasn’t been all that long, remember, and he’s already been doing excellently in his classes, and has made an impeccable group of friends.

“I suppose the adjustment period will take a bit longer,” Sirius allowed. “We’re just concerned that we won’t be able to help him if he doesn’t disclose.”

“Putting pressure on Harry to disclose his past on your timetable certainly won’t do him any good,” Severus reminded them. “It has to be on his own terms. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like or trust you yet. It could mean that he wants examples of trust. Perhaps he believes that, should he disclose now, he’ll be rejected.”

Remus blinked, seemingly shocked at the very idea. “I never considered that,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we’d better plan out our schedules so that he feels more included.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “You do not include him?”

“We include him whenever we can, of course, or whenever it’s appropriate to do so,” Sirius told him. “I suppose it has been a bit lacking of late, however...”

“Try asking Harry what he would like to do outside the house, or what he would like to be included in,” Severus suggested. “Perhaps there’s something you’ve yet to consider.”

The three men spoke for another fifteen minutes or so before Severus said that he’d like to speak to Harry before he left. Sirius went upstairs to fetch him, while Remus cleared away the evidence of their tea, which he brought into the kitchen. Sirius and Harry appeared a moment later in the doorway of the sitting room, and Sirius squeezed the latter’s shoulder, before moving into the kitchen to be with Remus, and shut the door behind them.

“Hello, Harry,” Severus said.

Harry visibly swallowed, but nevertheless moved deeper into the room, and took a spot on the now-vacated couch. “Good afternoon, Severus,” he said formally.

“How have you been?”

“Fine,” came the reply.

“School is going well?”

A stiff nod. “Yes. Ron and Hermione have been a big help.”

“Do you like living here?”

Harry nibbled at his lower lip. “Yes,” he said at last.

Severus’s pen scratched at his notes for a moment, before he finally looked up at Harry, who looked a bit perturbed. “Harry, I have to ask this, because I have to know,” he said, at last, lowering his pen and staring at the teenager, “were you uncomfortable when you saw me reading that book at the Burrow?” he asked.

Harry’s eyes flew to Severus’s face then, and his jaw dropped. He looked as if he would move to say something, then, but his cheeks flushed as his thoughts ran away from him. He was clearly struggling with forming a coherent sentence, and Severus was very close to potentially saving him, before Harry finally allowed himself to reply, “I wasn’t uncomfortable, but...”

“What, Harry? It is all right.”

Harry’s shoulders hunched then; he was clearly disturbed by something, but it was clear that Severus wouldn’t be able to readily put his finger on it. “I... I don’t think you would understand,” he managed to get out.

Severus nodded at the younger man’s words then; he’d encountered many a teenager in the past who believed, because of his perceived advanced age, that he would be unable to understand their thoughts and feelings. Being a teenager was indeed something that Severus remembered, although it had been quite a bit of time since he had been one. “Try me,” he said softly, not wanting Harry to think he would pressure him into it, but also knowing that communication could potentially help.

Harry slowly raised his eyes to Severus’s before they flashed, almost as if he was debating something. However, the thought came and went, and the teenager appeared compelled to answer. There seemed to be a moment when he reached an impasse, and, finally, permitted his mouth to open again, and he moved to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the inspiration for the Dursleys house: https://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-77055742.html


	4. Sentence Structure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you guessed about Harry's revelation to Ron and Hermione, well, here you are, and your thoughts are officially confirmed as to Harry's opinion on The Wicked Count.

“You don’t have to deal with this alone, mate,” Ron said softly, for what must’ve been the umpteenth time, as they walked towards their last class of the day, government and politics, in which their professor, Sir Nicholas, insisted upon wearing a powdered wig. “I mean, I know ‘Mione’s good to talk to, but we can talk about it, too, you know.”

Harry sighed, swallowing slightly. He stopped walking and moved to lean up against the wall of the school. It had been three and a half weeks since his meeting with Severus at Grimmauld Place, and he knew that they were almost overdue for a second meeting. He was able to brush off Severus’s inquisition about his demeanor at the Burrow, by merely stating that he had been in a state of shock after seeing Severus reading that particular “literature”.

“Mate?”

Harry’s brows came together then and shook his head, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip. “Think Sir Nicholas would mind if we skived off government and politics today?” he asked.

Ron’s face slowly morphed into a grin. “No,” he said. “It’s not going anywhere, is it?” He then grabbed Draco, as he was walking by, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re you doing, Weasel?!” Draco demanded, yanking himself away from him. “Get your filthy mitts off of me!”

“Yeah, yeah, belt up, ferret face and listen,” Ron said, and he and Draco laughed at one another. “Come on, then. Harry and I are blowing off class. Come with us?”

Draco looked Harry over for a moment and, once he saw he was being serious, nodded. “Fine, but we’ve got to head over to get the girls, too,” he said, and turned around, heading out the nearest door to get to the carpark.

Harry turned to Ron, who shrugged his shoulders, and they quickly moved to follow Draco. No sooner did they leave the car park did they arrive at the front gates of the school, and Ginny came scurrying out of the side entrance, pulling a worried-looking Hermione in her wake. Ginny let out a squeal and threw herself into the car beside Draco, throwing her arms around him and giving him a passionate snog. Hermione, meanwhile, got into the back over Ron, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, and a one-armed hug to Harry.

“Um...?” Harry asked, looking at Ron.

“Mobile,” Ron informed him. “Got Ginny one for her birthday.”

“Ah,” was Harry’s response.

“Drive!” Ron suddenly shouted, not wanting the headmistress, Venetia France, to catch wind of what they were doing.

Draco stepped on the gas and pulled down the street, Ginny letting out a noise of excitement, while Harry looked out the window, Hermione fretted softly, and Ron looking out the back to be sure that they weren’t being followed. Harry said nothing as they neared and got onto the A13 and just kept silent as they drove along the River Thames. It was a beautiful view, to be sure, but he also wondered where Draco intended upon taking them.

“Draco,” he asked after an hour of the question rattling around in his head, “where is it you intend upon taking us?”

“The château,” Draco said as they continued to drive. “Mum inherited it from a great-aunt when she married Lucius,” he went on, and Harry detected that he was not close to his father, although he couldn’t be sure if it was due to his prison term or not. “I like to go there sometimes when I need to think. It’s on Southend-On-Sea,” he said quietly.

“And, will our families be getting phone calls from the school?”

Draco’s eyes met Harry’s in the mirror. “What?”

“Well, I’m in the care system, Draco,” Harry said softly. “One false move and they could take me out of Sirius and Remus’s home. I have a lot more rules to abide by than the rest of you and, unfortunately, one little infraction could get me sent to a youth detention center or something. I don’t particularly want to go to one...”

Draco nodded, his manner taking on a stronger bit of understanding then. “No, I don’t suppose you would,” he remarked softly. “Don’t worry about it. My uncle, Ted, works on the board, and will make sure that all our arses are covered.”

“You don’t take advantage of that, do you?”

“Sometimes I just need a mental health day,” Draco said. “Uncle Ted understands. It’s his wife, Andromeda, my mum’s sister, that you need to watch out for.” Draco smirked then. “Did you know that we’re technically family now?”

“What?” Harry asked. “Family?”

“Yes,” Draco said, trying not to laugh. “My mum and Sirius are cousins.”

Harry swallowed. “Oh. I see.”

“I really should come by Grimmauld more,” Draco said quietly.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure Sirius and Remus wouldn’t mind.”

“Seeing as I’m the direct heir and all,” Draco said with a small sigh. “Not that I want it or anything... I have the estate. Think I’ll sign it over to you,” he remarked, looking at Harry for a moment, to which Ginny gave out a cry of joy and proceeded to smother Draco’s face with an abundance of kisses, much to Draco’s delight, Ron’s discomfort, Hermione’s amusement, and Harry’s surprise.

Harry nodded, not familiar with the area, but resolved to remain polite in the entirety of the situation. He continued making small talk whenever questions were directed at him for the duration of the drive, and then they were arriving in a picturesque resort town that he’d seen in glossy travel books in some of the more wealthy foster homes of his youth. There was a small stone wall around the house, plus a little black iron gate, and Draco pulled around the back to put his car away.

The five teenagers trooped out then, and Draco unlocked the back door and ushered the rest of them inside. He showed them around the main floor, before opening the doors which led to a luxurious-looking patio space, and then, down a trio of steps, right onto the sand. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ginny yanked onto Draco’s arm and pulled him after her, and they then began to walk along the beach together. As they drifted away along the sand, the waves crashing was the main sound that could still be heard.

“Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively as Harry lowered himself onto the staircase, and she quickly moved to join him. “What is it?”

“I had my first meeting with Severus three and a half weeks ago,” he said quietly as Ron sat on his other side. “The social worker meeting, you know. It happened at Grimmauld, and we talked for a few minutes on our own.”

“You tell him, mate?”

Harry immediately shook his head. “No, of course not. He’d think I was mad.”

Hermione sighed, twisting a lock of her bushy hair around one of her fingers. “Harry, to be honest with you, even _I_ thought you were mad until I saw the nearly-completed manuscript for _The Wicked Count and the Trials of Fire_ ,” she told him. “Of course, it was a bit of a shock, given that you’re a seventeen-year-old boy...”

“A seventeen-year-old boy, in the care system, who is incredibly gay, and who likely would be accused of sensationalizing his past if word got out that _I’m_ Linfred Hardwin,” he muttered and felt his shoulders hunching in an automatic gesture. “And do you know what the worst part of all of this is?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a worst part,” Ron put in.

“I lied the day I walked into Magical Kinship,” he said quietly.

Hermione blinked. “How did you lie?”

“I made it seem like I hadn’t met Severus before; I have,” he told them, dragging his knees up towards his chest.

“Blimey, mate. How did you meet him?” Ron queried.

“When I went into care the second time after I told coppers that Pettigrew did to me, Severus came to collect me,” Harry said softly. “I was so traumatized that, once I saw him, I became convinced that he was going to abduct me or something. I made such a fuss that I had to be sedated and, when I woke up, they’d brought in someone from a different agency to help me. I think her name was Charity Burbage,” he said, his brows knitting together as he attempted to draw as much from the memory as he could.

Hermione tentatively reached out and took ahold of Harry’s hand, which Harry squeezed in return. “Harry, I really hope you don’t blame yourself for that. You were not in the right frame of mind. The police are the ones to blame in this situation. They should have foreseen that you would have potentially reacted negatively to a man in an authoritative position, and should have readily provided a female social worker for you.”

Harry sighed, leaning back against the steps. “I’m tired of blaming people, Hermione,” he said quietly. “They didn’t knowingly do anything wrong. The fact remains that the main person at fault here is Pettigrew and, as far as I’m aware, he won’t be seeing the light of day for a good long time.”

“That’s good, mate,” Ron told him, nodding. “The last thing I’d want is to run into that ruddy bugger on the street.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ronald,” she whispered.

Harry looked out at the beautiful beach ahead of them and continued to watch the waves crash repeatedly onto the shore. “I’ve never seen it before,” he remarked.

“What, mate?” Ron queried.

“The sea,” Harry whispered. “I’ve always wanted to see the sea.”

“Why have you?” Hermione wanted to know. “Not that it’s not a beautiful thing to look at, but why has it held such apparent fascination for you?”

“There’s beauty in nature,” Harry said softly. “I suppose that one needs to see it in all forms—a forest in springtime, a mountain top in snow, a fire on an autumn night, and the beach in the summertime. There are a plethora of combinations where one can see the beauty in nature and, perhaps, now that I’m in a good place, I’ll be able to see them all.”

“Hope,” Hermione whispered.

“Yes,” Harry agreed with a nod. “That’s one thing I wouldn’t, couldn’t, afford for many years at a time. And, now that I have a semblance of it, perhaps it can be afforded.”

“Hope?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Ron. Hope. I’m safe in a home with people who seem to like and care about me, I’ve got friends and a good outlook education-wise. There are lots of things that I didn’t have before and, now that I do, perhaps I should hang onto them for as long as I’ve got because I think it’s unlikely I’ll ever get such a wonderful opportunity like this again.”

Harry continued to gaze out at the simple yet true beauty of the waves, which continued to crash over and over one another upon the shore and felt content with Ron and Hermione on either side of him. It was a simple thing, to sit there with one’s friends, and yet, as Harry had never truly experienced such a thing, he found himself taking great delight in it. Now, he decided as he watched Draco and Ginny proceed to dance around one another on the sand beyond, he could truly create an outline for his future. Perhaps, in addition to all that, he could get to truly know Severus on an equal playing field, for, he realized, he had not been a child for such a long time, and there was no mistaking the looks that those beautiful, yet haunting, onyx eyes were giving to him when they met in Albus Dumbledore’s office just a handful of weeks before.

~*~

Harry stood in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, gazing out of his rain-splattered window, in the wake of his second at-home meeting with Severus. Severus had found out about Harry’s cutting school with Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and although he didn’t endorse it, he understood the reasons behind Harry’s desire to get out of his head for a while. Because of this, Severus told him that he wouldn’t report it to the authorities, but that Harry should at least discuss the situation with Sirius and Remus before their next visit.

Harry pushed himself off from the wall and headed downstairs; he could smell dinner cooking and knew that it was going to be lasagna, one of his favorites. He could smell the garlic bread cooking as well, and could now hear Remus tossing a Caesar salad in one of those massive antique bowls Grimmauld Place had. Stepping into the kitchen, both Sirius and Remus smiled at him, seemingly pleased that he was there.

“Harry, could you set the table, please?” Sirius asked, pulling the lasagna out of the oven. “The garlic bread needs to go a bit longer, and this needs to set.”

“Sure, no problem,” Harry replied. He wandered over to the cupboard and fetched three placemats, plus three plates, three napkins, three forks, butter knives for the garlic bread, and six glasses—three tumblers for water, and three highball-type glasses for their main drinks. Moving out into the dining room, he set the table, adding on a pitcher of ice water for everyone to pass around, as well as soda for him, red wine for Sirius, and white for Remus.

Harry remained silent for the most part, but came when called back to the table, and served himself when his turn came. He could not, however, bring himself to eat, and merely moved a lettuce leaf around upon the surface of his plate, and barely picked at the top cheese layer of the lasagna. Finally, he sensed that Remus and Sirius knew that something was wrong, so two sets of utensils were placed upon the table, and his foster parents proceeded to stare at him, hoping that he would be the one to break the silence.

However, that did not happen.

“Harry, did something happen during your discussion with Severus?” Remus asked him in a most tentative manner.

Harry swallowed, but placed his utensils back onto the surface of the table. “I lied to you guys.”

Sirius nodded. “All right? You’re a teenager, and human, Harry. Remus and I hardly expect you to be perfect.”

“No, I lied to your faces about something, and Severus found out about it, and he told me that I had to tell you both what happened,” he said firmly.

“All right, all right, Harry, slow down,” Remus said, his tone gentle. “What happened? We can’t help you if we don’t know what happened.”

“I skipped government and politics on that Friday I told you that Draco, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and I were studying late at St. Bride Library,” he said quietly. “I know it was wrong, but I just needed to get out of my head for a little while. I know now that if I’m feeling that way, I can ask Headmaster Slughorn to call you guys at work or something, and we can talk it out. I promise it won’t happen again...”

“We understand, Harry,” Sirius said softly. “This has all been quite a big adjustment for you, these past few weeks, and you’ve been settling in remarkably well, considering. We understand that you may need to get out of your head for a while, and you’ve got plenty of reasons for wanting to do so.”

“We can trust you when you say that this won’t happen again,” Remus said gently. “If you ever want to leave school early again, just give us a call, and we’ll make the necessary arrangements for you to do so.”

“We’ll even get you a phone to make it easier,” Sirius put in.

“In the meantime,” Remus continued, getting to his feet, “I think it’s high time we introduced you to our newest family member.”

“What? Newest family member?” Harry asked as Sirius smiled at him, and Remus left the dining room. “What’s going on?” he wanted to know.

Remus returned to the dining room shortly thereafter, holding a rather cumbersome-looking box in his arms, and Harry drew back when the box whimpered ever so slightly. He placed it gently in front of Harry before returning to his seat at the table, and when Harry made no move to do so, Remus nodded at him encouragingly. “Go ahead, Harry. Open it.”

Confused, but curious nevertheless, Harry bent down and opened the lid of the box, and a pair of black eyes stared at him before another pair of red-gold paws placed themselves upon the now-open edge of the box. “Oh, my god!” Harry cried out, immediately taking the squirming puppy into his arms, and holding the little thing close.

“That’s an Irish Setter, Harry,” Sirius said informatively. “They’re one of the top-breeds for emotional support.”

“Headmaster Slughorn thinks it would be a wonderful idea for you to have a dog around school, provided that we set about training her right away,” Remus put in.

“You can have her there after Christmas, for second term, provided that all the training and socialization goes well for her,” Sirius said enthusiastically.

“It’s a girl, then?” Harry asked, pressing a kiss to the puppy’s cheek, and the little thing let out a squeak of excitement and burrowed closer in his arms.

“She is indeed a girl,” Remus confirmed.

Harry nodded, pulling back and regarding her for a moment. “She’ll need a name, then,” he said, thinking aloud. “Hedwig. Do you like that, girl?” he asked, and the puppy promptly wagged her tail, even looking as if she was smiling at her new master. “I think she likes it,” Harry said and smiled at Remus and Sirius.

“We were thinking that you could head to the Burrow this weekend with the gang,” Sirius said with a smile. “You can help socialize Hedwig, and maybe she can make friends with Crookshanks along the way.”

“Plus, she can get some of her youthful energy out on the wide expanse of land that Arthur and Molly have around the place,” Remus put in.

Harry nodded. “As long as Draco doesn’t mind having her in the car, or Arthur and Molly don’t mind another mouth to feed,” he said with a laugh, “I think that it’ll work.”

~*~

Harry was slightly taken aback to be invited to Draco’s annual Halloween fancy-dress party at the Malfoy estate but, once Sirius and Remus had permitted him to go, he agreed. He thanked them for allowing his attendance, as well as watching Hedwig for a night, and went with Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny directly after school on that Friday, Halloween, to the estate of the Malfoy family. Harry hadn’t been to the place yet but had heard plenty about it from Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, as well as Draco, who seemed very proud of his family home. Draco drove expertly into the high-end portion of the Kensington neighborhood, and carefully into the three-car garage at the base of the house.

“Mum’s at work for a few more hours, but she’ll be along for some of the event,” Draco told them all as he took Ginny by the hand and led her inside the place.

Harry looked around the expansive rooms; he knew that the ten-bedroom house boasted a lift, both indoor and outdoor pools, a home gym, a sauna, a home theater, and an outdoor patio. He, along with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, had been granted permission to stay the night, and he found that he was looking forward to it. As they entered the expansive kitchen, Harry took note of the staff, which were either involved in cleaning or getting food ready for the evening. He was quite pleased when Draco gave them orders, but always did so in a polite and considerate manner, and the staff seemed altogether pleased to do his bidding.

“Right,” Draco said as soon as he’d finished, “I’ll show you to your rooms.” As he walked along, it became clear to Harry that Ginny would be rooming with Draco, and Ron and Hermione would be sharing a room as well. Once he and Ginny had brought Harry to his room, Harry found he was a bit overwhelmed with how nice it was. “It’s considered a standard guest suite, just like the others, save for the two masters, which Mother and I traditionally occupy, of course,” Draco informed him with a grin. “Take your time freshening up for the party. There’s a full bath and walk-in closet for you as well. And, if you need anything, summon either Flora or Jameson, and they’ll see to your needs. You’re an official guest of the Malfoy family, Harry, and you shouldn’t be afraid of asking for anything.” With a smile, he wrapped an arm around Ginny’s waist, who waved, before they slipped off.

Harry crossed the room and shut the door automatically behind him; considering it for a moment, he decided to take a shower before changing into his costume. He thought it was quite funny, as he would be dressing up as the wicked count, Hadrian Peverell, himself, and he knew that only Ron and Hermione would understand the depth of the joke. Retrieving his shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap, as well as a large and white flannel from the extensive linen closet just inside the bathroom, Harry momentarily marveled at how soft it was in his hands. He stripped down relatively quickly, locking the bathroom door in his wake, and stepped into the shower, leaving the linen in an easily accessible place as he stood underneath the warm stream of water.

Harry rolled his shoulders, absolutely loving the water pressure given to him, and briefly considered that this could be his life, were he to come out in public as Linfred Hardwin. But, he had entered into the contract with the publishing agency, as well as his agent, Oliver Wood, that Viktor Krum would serve as the Linfred Hardwin until Harry reached his eighteenth birthday, and aged out of the care system. Then, after a subdued period, Harry would be formally handed over to the public, as the real Linfred Hardwin, and the sales of the books, as projected by Oliver Wood himself, would sky-rocket. Harry knew full well that Krum, no matter how nice a bloke he was, had only gotten the gig to pose as the fake Linfred Hardwin because of his good looks, as well as his committed relationship with Oliver Wood. Harry sighed, knowing that Oliver was probably right, and that, for publicities’ sake, it would be better to conceal his identity from the public until it was seen as “legal”.

Getting out of the shower as soon as he deemed himself presentable, cleanliness-wise, Harry dried himself off before securing the flannel about his waist and returned to his bedroom to get dressed for the night. Crossing over to the bed, Harry opened up his black duffel and found his costume, some sleep clothes, and an outfit that he was able to wear for Sirius and Remus to pick him up in tomorrow. Pulling out his costume, he found an ironing board, plus an iron, and used them quickly and expertly on the costume, before hanging it up in the walk-in closet. He crossed the room and perched upon the window seat, removing his draft for _The Wicked Count and the Trials of Fire_ from his backpack, and began writing the outline for the fourth chapter, wherein Hadrian is keeping mum about a secret that he is determined to hide from Sebastian, as he wants to explore every avenue available to them, to discover how the pair of them will eventually be able to marry.

It was when he heard a massive clock from somewhere in the house chime the half-hour of five that he finally put the half-finished chapter away and got to his feet. Washing his hands to do away with the ink marks upon them, Harry quickly advanced into the walk-in closet and moved to put on his costume. He got into the hose first, which went clear up to his knees, before managing to get his trousers into their proper place above them. Next, came the shirt, with all its ruffled glory, which he buttoned into place upon both his wrists and his neck. The waistcoat followed suit promptly thereafter, which Harry buttoned rather expertly. The cravat, which came next, was even more ruffled than his shirt, which he pulled and tucked so that it rested just so upon his neck and looked quite fashionable. He stepped into his black shoes with shining silver buckles next and made sure that he could walk in them without them squeaking. Following this came the coat, which was a lovely green color trimmed with gold which Hermione had whispered to Harry that matched his eyes perfectly, and Harry promptly buttoned the great buttons upon it. Strutting about the room for a handful of moments, Harry found himself looking every inch the wicked count, and, as a final piece for the evening, as it was to be masked event, Harry fetched his matching green and gold mask and secured it upon his face.

Trying quite hard not to giggle, Harry slipped out of his borrowed bedroom and shut the door behind him, knowing that the Malfoy staff would likely keep the guests from getting out of hand and slipping into areas where they didn’t belong. He went down the great staircase and into the hub of the party, where he saw Ron and Hermione, dressed as Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet, and Draco and Ginny, dressed as the devil and an angel. Deeper in the crowd, he caught sight of Neville and Luna, dressed like a mob boss and a flapper respectively, and Seamus and Dean, who were dressed as two rook chess pieces.

“Harry!” cried Hermione, darting forward and grabbing ahold of Harry by both hands, and promptly pulling him into the crowd.

Harry was vaguely aware of the music changing by the hired DJ and found he recognized the song as one by the Swedish band, ABBA, as their classic, _Voulez-Vous_. Dragged through the crowd and pulled this way and that by his friends, Harry felt his blood quickly pumping from within him, and found that he liked it. He was handed drink after drink and found that he liked the sensation of the various cocktails flowing through his veins. As he danced, he suddenly found himself in a pair of strong arms and, upon looking up, saw himself being held by Sebastian Prince himself.

“Sir,” he whispered, his tone slightly slurred, and his brain slightly fuzzy.

“Ah, Hadrian,” came the reply.

Harry swallowed. “Oh, my,” he said softly.

Severus smiled down at him, and Harry felt his entire body threatening to turn into liquid at the sensations that look from the older gentleman gave to him. Severus pulled him closer, and they quickly fell into the crowd in a dance so intimate that Harry very nearly lost his footing once or twice. Completely unknowing when he would get the opportunity again, Harry stood on his toes and threw his arms around Severus, kissing him as deeply and as passionately as he could.

“Oh, no, no, no,” came Severus’s velvet-like voice in his ear, as he pulled back from Harry. “I don’t think you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, Mr. Potter.”

“I know _exactly_ what I’m doing,” Harry told him, as he pushed him away from the crowd and down a deserted hallway, away from all the guests; he was speaking through his teeth, although he still felt himself shaking at the dangerousness that was laced within the situation. “I want to do this. Let me do this.”

Severus looked conflicted then, and Harry felt his heart proceed to hammer in his throat at the notion that the literal man of his dreams could want him. “Harry, you know as well as I do that it wouldn’t be in everyone’s best interests if we were to get involved.”

Harry swallowed. “So, you want to be involved?”

“Yes, more than you know,” Severus assured him. “But it can’t happen, at least not yet. Not while you’re still underage and in the care system, and not while I’m your social worker. I could potentially lose my job, Harry...”

“I’ve got money,” Harry said quickly, not even caring that he was babbling right now; he wanted more than anything to do right by Severus. “I’ve got _plenty_ of money for us to live off of, Severus,” he went on, and Severus looked confused by the declaration. “We don’t even have to stay here, in these lives that were assigned to the two of us. I don’t have to be a boy in the care system, and you don’t have to be a social worker...”

“Harry, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Severus said, obviously doing his best to bring Harry back down to earth. “You hardly know me...”

“I know enough,” Harry told him, narrowing his eyes at him. “I know all about what you did for Hermione, and I also know...”

“What, Harry? What do you claim to know now?”

Harry let out a noise of frustration then, before making a grab for Severus’s arm and hauling him up the staircase, unseen by all the partygoers, and yanked him into the bedroom that he would be using for the night. “I know that you would never hurt me,” Harry told him, and tore his mask off from his face, whereupon he did the same to Severus. “I know this because I met you when I was ten-years-old.”

Severus blinked. “You met me when you were ten...?” He asked, and shook his head. “No, Harry, you’re mistaken. We’ve only known each other for nearly two months...”

“No,” Harry told him, his voice firm. “You came to the police station that night, remember? I screamed at you, because I was afraid, and you left...”

Severus stared at Harry, stone-faced. “You were such a little boy then,” he whispered, and Harry knew then that Severus remembered him. “I... I couldn’t be the one to cause you pain, which is why I left you...”

“I was all right,” Harry assured him. “Another social worker saw me, a woman. Charity Burbage,” he told him.

Severus nodded. “Yes, I knew Charity; a bright woman with a kind disposition. The poor lady passed away from cancer over the last summer, I’m afraid.”

“Which is why I was reassigned over to Magical Kinship once my latest foster parents decided that they’d had enough of me in their lives,” Harry said softly.

Severus sighed and shook his head, but permitted himself to gently stroke at Harry’s cheek, and shuddered when Harry leaned into the touch. “This cannot happen,” he whispered, and yet he knew that he was on the verge of being done for.

“It was always fated to happen, Severus,” Harry declared, before he stepped forward, threw his arms around Severus, and kissed him again.

~*~

Harry squinted automatically as he felt the sun threatening to creep through his eyelids; their undersides were an attractive coral-pink, and he wished that he could be a painter for a moment to capture their detail. The next sensation he felt was that of a distinct throbbing in both his temples and hated the notion that he had indulged in one too many drinks the night before. And then, the third and final thing Harry felt was the notion that there was an arm wrapped around him, and that his top half was bare.

Harry’s eyes shot open then, and he automatically rolled over to see where he was, and who was occupying the bed he was currently sleeping in.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered, taking in none other than Severus Snape lying beside him, his raven hair spilled out on the pillow next to his. “What did I do?!” Harry cried out then, as he covered his mouth with the duvet.

“Harry!” came Hermione’s shout on the other side of the door, followed by an incessant series of knocks shortly thereafter, and Harry gasped then as Severus’s eyes shot open. “Harry, it’s after eight o’clock, and Flora’s plating up breakfast for us. Everyone’s parents should be here in two hours to collect them, so you’d best get a move on with showering and such.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry managed to get out as Severus threw himself out of the bed, and proceeded to dress in his costume from the night before. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and I’ll be right down, okay?”

“Sure thing, Harry!” Hermione said pleasantly. “Draco’s got pain meds for all of us who had a few too many as well!” she said, setting something down outside his door. “I’ve left them and a glass of water for you.”

“Thanks for that, ‘Mione!” Harry managed to get out, pulling the plush duvet more closely around him as he watched Severus readying himself. “Severus, what...?”

Severus’s eyes locked with his and he shook his head. “I’ve got to get out of here, Harry. If anyone sees...”

“I don’t want you to lose your job!” Harry burst out.

Severus sighed. “It will be the insinuation more than anything else,” he said, managing to pull his jacket from his costume around him as he finished getting ready. “Harry, listen, you have an in-office visit next month—this week,” he said, his head swimming. “We’ll discuss everything then, okay?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. O-of course, Severus,” he said.

Severus gave him a tentative smile then, and turned around to look for his shoes, and, when he found them, inadvertently tripped over Harry’s backpack, where the manuscript for _The Wicked Count and the Trials of Fire_ tumbled out onto the floor, its pages spreading themselves out fully for Severus to see. “Harry,” Severus said, his tone clipped, “why do you appear to have an unfinished manuscript for the story of Hadrian Peverell and his lover, Sebastian Prince, in your very own school bag?”

Harry sighed, finding that he couldn’t bring himself to even look at Severus. “I think we should leave that for our in-office discussion, don’t you agree?” he quipped, digging his hands into the duvet.

Severus nodded, stepping into his shoes, although he remained tight-lipped. “Right, then. I’ll see you later this week,” he said, before turning on his heel and leaving the room, without looking back, and slamming the door behind him, which give Harry the divine opportunity to place his head into his hands and try to soothe his headache, which had allowed itself to intensify over the last two minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To see the house based upon the Malfoy family's château in Southend-On-Sea, please visit here: https://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-66004617.html
> 
> To see the house based upon the Malfoy estate in Kensington, please visit here: https://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-70700242.html


	5. Parts of Speech

Severus, in all of his years of being a social worker to the needy young people of England, had never permitted himself to lose control as he had done over the previous weekend. There was never an inkling of attraction between him and one of the toddlers, children, or adolescents he was somewhat in charge of, so suffice it to say that his apparent attraction to one seventeen-year-old Harry Potter was a bitter pill to swallow. As Severus sat at his desk in his office at Magical Kinship that Thursday afternoon, waiting for three o’clock to roll around so as Harry would be done with school and on his way to his appointment, he found he was growing more and more unsteady with each passing minute.

When Harry finally arrived, promptly at three-thirty, he negotiated with his school bag briefly for a moment before he plunked himself down in the offered chair. He accepted Severus’s offer for tea and biscuits, but Severus could plainly see that he wasn’t the only one among them with a striking feeling of uneasiness. Harry visibly swallowed where he sat, but nevertheless thanked Severus for the steaming mug of tea and perched upon the edge of his seat.

“Let me be the first to put your mind at ease,” Severus informed him in a clipped tone as he moved to sit opposite Harry at his own desk.

“Yes?” Harry whispered.

“You and I did not engage in complete sexual activity that night,” he said steadily, and found himself clenching his teeth when Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “We engaged in inappropriate kissing and touching, but nothing more.”

“Thank you,” Harry told him.

“Yes, well, my type of man does not fall unconscious during my exploits,” Severus told him, and felt slightly awkward in revealing this information to Harry.

“I was unconscious?” Harry asked.

Severus nodded. “Yes. After we made it up to your borrowed bedroom, and you said some rather pretty, yet hasty, words. However, you went limp in my arms...”

“That doesn’t explain why I was merely in boxers the following morning when Hermione woke us up,” Harry put in. arching an eyebrow at Severus.

“I figured you’d be more comfortable that way,” Severus said plainly, spreading his hands. “I don’t often like to fall asleep in fancy-dress, but, perhaps, you do.”

“No, I really don’t,” Harry said softly, picking up his mug and sipping its contents slowly. “Thank you for your consideration to my state of sleep dress.”

Severus gave a stiff nod then, twirling his finger about the rim of his own mug. “I’m afraid I must ask you to explain why there appeared to be an unfinished manuscript in your bag,” he puts in, and Harry choked on his tea.

“Why?”

“Well, Harry, I am merely curious as to why you seemed to brush off all our previous discussions of _The Wicked Count_ , when you yourself were dressed as its protagonist at Draco’s Halloween celebrations. And then, of course, there’s the not-so-small matter of the manuscript...”

Harry set his mug down and lowered his eyes to the floor, almost as if he found the pattern of the rug fascinating. “I don’t see what I do in my private life is any of your business,” he told him, his tone clipped, as Severus’s had been mere moments previously. “I am hardly breaking any laws here...”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Severus allowed, taking in Harry’s body language, and quickly coming to the conclusion that the young man was hiding something. “However, I think you and I both know that Linfred Hardwin is a native of Bulgaria, quite a bit taller than you, and not to mention the facial hair he boasts...”

Harry appeared angered by Severus’s statement, but nevertheless kept his eyes averted, although his fingers proceeded to knot themselves together. “Just as you and the rest of the public surmise,” he muttered.

“Harry, if there’s something troubling you, be it personal or general, now would be the time to discuss it. Remember, I’m just here to help you,” Severus told him.

Harry looked up at Severus, and appeared as if he was about to say something in reply, when his mobile suddenly went off from within his bag. “Sorry,” he said, and quickly went to retrieve it, his dark brows knitting together when he saw who it was. “It’s important. Can I have a moment?” he asked.

Severus spread his hands. “By all means,” he said, getting to his feet and crossing the room. He opened the office door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door a crack.

“Hey,” Harry said into the phone, from what Severus could hear outside in the hallway. “No, it’s not a bad time. I’m just in that meeting I told you about,” he told the caller. “I miss you, too. I did talk to them, yeah, and they said that you were welcome to come to Grimmauld. Yes, or yours, too, they just want to meet your mum first. Yeah, I know how parents are; at least, I’m starting to figure it out,” he continued with a laugh. “All right. Yes, I’m coming to your match tomorrow after class is over. Stop,” Harry went on, laughing along with the conversation. “No, you’re better,” he assured them. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Bye,” he said, and cut the phone call.

Severus walked back into the office then, deciding it best not to bring up who the person had been on the other end of the phone, as it appeared today was not the day to get answers out of Harry. “So, how are your classes?”

Harry blinked, obviously taken aback at the change of pace. “Fine, thank you.”

“Did you inform Sirius and Remus about your little detour a few weeks ago, with Draco, Mr. and Miss Weasley, and Hermione?”

Harry nodded at him. “I did, yes.”

“How did the conversation go?”

“Quite well,” Harry said brightly. “They got me a puppy.”

~*~

“A puppy,” Severus raged as he paced back and forth in Albus’s office the following evening, so close to pulling out his hair from the roots. “Don’t you think that that’s seen as rewarding behavior for Harry playing truant?”

“Now, Severus,” Albus said, his voice authoritative, “you know as well as I do just how much that young man has been through. I hardly think a little reward for being forthright with his foster carers is a bad thing.”

“He sat on the truth for _weeks_ , Albus!” Severus sneered at his superior. “He only informed them of it when effectively backed into a corner.”

“I do hope that you didn’t threaten young Harry, Severus,” Albus said, popping a lemon drop into his mouth in a methodic gesture.

Severus glared at the old man. “I hardly think that my methods of dealing with the children I am assigned to should be called into question, Albus.”

“You have had plenty of success stories, I’ll grant you,” Albus replied with a nod as he sucked on his bit of sweet; it was a lemon drop, of course. “Miss Granger for one. How has she been?”

“Top of her class since she was placed with Milton and Christina,” Severus told him. “She’s positively thriving at her school, and has already gotten early acceptance into Oxford, with a career plan in place.”

“Ah, yes, following in your footsteps as a social worker,” Albus said fondly. “Gellert and I were speaking of it the other day...”

“How is Gellert?” Severus asked, sitting down in the visitor’s chair in Albus’s office, knowing that Albus wouldn’t rest until the conversation of himself and his life partner was complete.

“Oh, very well,” Albus replied, tickled. “Got a new commission for the gallery.”

“He likes being a gallery owner?” Severus quipped.

Albus nodded with excitement, his blue eyes twinkling. “Oh, yes. Especially when he gets to put his own pieces up for sale. You know,” he went on with a smile, “you were always a great favorite of his.”

“Likely because you have been a father to me for the past nearly twenty years.”

“How are Tobias and Eileen?”

“Still married, and living in the Spinner’s End council estates in Jaywick,” he muttered bitterly, still pleased with himself to have gotten out of there.

“I am just so deeply sorry that naught could have been done for you in your formative years, Severus,” came Albus’s soft reply, the twinkle in his eyes vanishing.

“Tobias would have considered it charity,” Severus informed him, “while Eileen would simply bow her head to his wishes...”

“Well, good that you’re out of there now,” Albus said with a nod. “Is there anything that can be done about your mother?”

“Mum would never escape from Tobias’s influence, for fear that he and all the factory workers would eventually come after her.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Severus asked with a bitter laugh. “I’m safe, because I paid back all the supposed debts that Tobias believed I incurred, plus the notion that his son is a poof was more than enough reason to push me out.”

“You’re just fortunate that you escaped the streets.”

“I spent all my free time reading, as you know,” Severus said quietly. “It was an honor and a privilege to be accepted at the University of Essex, and then Cambridge.”

“You got out.”

“And I suppose that makes me a success story, then,” Severus said, turning to stare out of the massive window in Albus’s office. “Just wish that I could have saved them all...”

“You still haven’t told Harry?”

Severus swallowed. “What good would that do?”

“It may give him the closure that he truly needs.”

“I hardly think me informing him that Lily and I grew up together is something that Harry needs to be told,” Severus said quietly.

“Severus...”

“Albus, I cannot.”

“Surely, Harry wishes to know about the woman who died mere hours after he was born and thus put him on the path where he was forced to fend for himself at such a young age.”

“She wanted to marry me, you know. Not James,” Severus said softly. “I told her that I couldn’t marry her, because I wouldn’t be able to love her the way she deserved to be loved. When I gave her the specific reason why, she spat in my face, and told me never to talk to her again. She got accepted into King’s College in London, but never finished, as she met James, and he got her pregnant, forcing her to put her educational plans on hold. And then he spent every spare quid they had on the local pub, and poor Lily was left to become more and more malnourished as her pregnancy went on.”

“What of Lily’s parents?”

“Disowned her after she left university and married James,” Severus told them. “Told her to leave James, put the baby up for adoption, and stay at university. She was so headstrong that she refused, apparently wanting the baby...”

“Harry,” Albus put in.

Severus sighed. “I supposed she wanted unconditional love from someone, and I can hardly fault her for wanting that, despite all the terrible things she said to me...”

“Severus?”

Severus sighed. “James was drinking with Pettigrew when Lily went into labor, and she called me to take her into hospital. I did, and was there when Harry was born. I watched over him in the nursery, but left as soon as I knew James was there. I didn’t even say goodbye to her, you know,” Severus told Albus.

“You cannot blame yourself for it, you know.”

“How can I not?” Severus whispered. “She begged my forgiveness as they were cleaning Harry up, and asked me to take both her and Harry away from James. I told her I wouldn’t, I just stared at her and said that she had made the bed she was lying in, and that she had better deal with it on her own. She flat-lined as soon as I left the room, and I left her with those words...”

Albus regarded Severus thoughtfully. “Would you have done it any differently, given the chance to put yourself in that situation again?”

“We can go through our whole lives imagining ‘what-if’s’, Albus...”

“Severus. Just answer the question.”

Severus sighed, leaning back against the chair. “I think I would have delayed the conversation about her harsh words towards me to a later date, when she was feeling better. But I also think that I would have made sure that Lily had a different place to live than in my measly little flat, which was all I could afford at the time.”

“You were weeks away from graduating with your degree,” Albus said. “It’s understandable that you would have wanted your space.”

“I would have wanted my space because Lily would have...”

“Severus?”

“Lily would get me drunk and make me do things to her,” Severus said, hating it when his eyes filled with tears.

“‘Do things’?”

“Yes. Touch her, and kiss her,” Severus said, visibly shuddering. “I... I couldn’t take it, which is why it came as a small relief when she subsequently rejected me for coming out to her. I couldn’t go through all that again,” he whispered.

“No, I don’t suppose you could have, or anyone else could have,” Albus observed quietly. “I would not ask anyone to do so.”

Severus scrubbed a hand down his face. “Now you can see why I cannot inform Harry about his mother’s relationship with me,” he whispered. “It would do more evil than good.”

“How can you know that, Severus?”

“I know that because, one false move, and Harry’s world could potentially shatter. He already harbors resentment towards James for looking the other way. How would he be able to forgive his mother, a woman he never met, for being so cruel to people like us?”

Albus sighed. “Yes. I suppose so.”

“Can we just leave it for now, Albus?”

Albus gave a grave nod. “Very well, but I expect that the two of us will be re-visiting this subject in future.”

~*~

Severus accepted the call from Penelope in the second week of December, informing him that Hermione was coming in for another visit. Severus didn’t mind; in fact, out of all of his former children, she was the only one who made it a point to visit. A handful or so sent letters in the post, while the rest didn’t bother to stay in touch at all. Severus got to his feet as soon as the phone call ended and crossed the room, preparing cups of tea as Hermione’s Mary Jane’s could be heard outside of the office, and she breezed in.

“Good afternoon, Severus,” she said brightly, flashing him that engaging smile of hers as she all but bounced into the seat.

“Hello to you as well, Hermione,” Severus said, a smile threatening to pull at his lips as he placed her cup of tea before her—milky, with two sugars. “How are your plans for the holidays coming along?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re just wonderful,” she told him, grinning. “Draco’s party should be quite happening, as they say. And then Molly and Arthur have their yearly get-together at the Burrow. Not to mention the one Mum and Dad have decided to put together, and then there’s the annual one right here in M.K.”

“Sounds like you’ve got quite the busy schedule.”

Hermione shrugged. “No more than I can handle, I assure you. Then there’s the matter of all the assignments, including papers and reading, that I’ve got to accomplish before term starts in the beginning of New Year.”

“You’ve always been exceptionally organized, Hermione.”

“Yes. My day planner for my first-term at Oxford is coming along nicely. I’ve still got to finalize meetings and such, but all my classes are picked out.”

“And how are things with Mr. Weasley?”

“Ron has been a gem throughout,” Hermione told Severus. “We’ve actually been discussing marriage, if you can believe it.”

“Marriage?” Severus asked. “Mr. Weasley isn’t due to turn eighteen until March. I would have thought you would wait.”

“Oh, of course,” Hermione told him. “We’re merely discussing an engagement the summer after we get our A-Levels, and don’t plan on marrying until either halfway through university, or perhaps not until its completion.”

Severus sighed, nodding; if anyone could keep with a date, it was Hermione. “You do know best, Hermione, after all.”

Hermione studied Severus then, and Severus felt a bit uncomfortable. “Is something troubling you, Severus?” she asked.

Severus immediately shook his head. “Oh, no, Hermione,” he said, and smiled at her. “I suppose I tend to get a bit lonely around the holidays.”

“I thought your parents were still living,” she observed softly.

He sighed. “They are. They live in squalor in a council estate in Essex. Threw me out when I was fifteen, due to my father not being supportive of my preferences.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “That’s just terrible,” she said, and shook her head. “We may be a long way from all couples securing the right to marry, but I believe that it has come a long way during the past few decades. Don’t you think?”

“It has, thankfully,” Severus said with a nod.

“Well,” Hermione said, digging into her bag and pulling out a cream envelope, a red one, and a green one, before she handed them over. “Official invitations to Draco and Narcissa’s celebration, plus the Granger one, and the one at the Burrow,” she informed him. “And I’m also here to inform you that everyone will come to M.K.’s Christmas do.”

Severus dropped the envelopes onto his desk, before his eyes shot up to look at Hermione. “Did you say ‘everyone’?”

“Well, of course,” Hermione said with a smile. “‘Tis the season, as they all say.”

“Who, my dear, is ‘everyone’?” Severus asked.

“Me, Mum, and Dad, of course,” she said, ticking off people on her fingers. “Draco and Narcissa will be here as well. And then don’t forget Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. And I heard from Harry that he’ll be here with Remus and Sirius.”

Severus swallowed. “And how is Harry?”

Hermione grinned. “Oh, he’s doing wonderfully. Really helping Draco in stepping up to get Ron to do well in all his studying.”

“And personally?”

“Well, he really should have told you himself, but I suppose he didn’t in your last sit-down, as it was so new...”

“What was ‘so new’, Hermione?”

“Well, his relationship with his boyfriend, of course,” Hermione said.

Severus blinked. “Boyfriend?”

“Oh, yes. They’ve been together since Draco’s Halloween celebration,” Hermione informed Severus with a nod.

“And who, pray tell, is this young man?”

“Blaise Zabini, he’s in Harry’s class,” Hermione told him. “He’s quite a charmer, and has a flair for English, just like Harry. They’re always writing poems together. It’s quite sweet.”

“Poems?”

“Love poems,” Hermione said, and let out a little sigh. “Quite the romantic, Blaise is. He’s always holding onto Harry’s hand and whispering little endearments into his ear...” She flushed then and shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you any of this...”

“Think of me like a doctor, Hermione,” Severus said, forcing a smile onto his lips. “All we say in my office is strictly confidential.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, nodding. “Well, all right, then.”

“What else does Blaise do?”

“He’s the Attacking Midfielder on the school’s football team,” Hermione told Severus. “Harry hasn’t missed a match since they’ve gone public.”

Severus clenched his teeth for a moment. “I do hope that seeing the matches hasn’t prevented Harry from studying as much as he should.”

“Oh, no, Severus,” Hermione said, and shook her head. “Blaise is very dedicated to his education, and merely plays football for fun, although he is quite good at it.”

“And what does Mr. Zabini want to do for university?”

“He’s already been accepted to the University of Birmingham’s College of Medical and Dental Sciences,” Hermione told him. “Blaise wants to be a pediatric physician.”

Severus bit his tongue, hating that there was almost nothing to loathe about this Blaise Zabini fellow, despite the fact that he was currently running his hands up and down _his_ Harry. Severus halted his thoughts then, knowing that he couldn’t allow them to get that far. He had no claims to Harry, and the fact that he readily believed he did was just beginning to lurk into the category of dangerous territory.

“Ah, I see,” Severus said, forcing his head and neck to move in a nodding motion. “I suppose that children frequently find themselves to be ill. We need capable people to take care of them and to see that their needs are met medically.”

“Blaise volunteers whenever he’s not studying, training for football, or with Harry, at London Bridge Hospital,” Hermione said fondly. “He’s especially wanted in the pediatric oncology ward, with all the children who are ill with cancer.”

“And Harry seems happy with Blaise?”

Hermione seemed about to launch into something which reeked of preparedness, but she stopped herself and looked up at Severus. “Can I speak freely?”

“By all means.”

Hermione nipped at her upper lip. “Well, in all honesty, while Harry does seem happy with Blaise, the pair act more like people playing a part than anything else.”

Severus blinked. “How do you figure?”

“Well, they act plenty smitten in public, but the few times that I inadvertently walk past them—our schools are so close together, you know—they’re merely talking like close friends. They’re still kind to one another, but their affections in public ring hollow.”

“You don’t think that Blaise is using Harry, do you?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know. I really hope he isn’t. While I’ve always liked Blaise and admired him for all he’s done, I’ve never been close with him. He and Draco grew up together, you see, and he’s Draco’s only friend remaining from before he joined our little friend group last summer.”

“I just hope that nobody is using anyone here,” Severus said softly.

Hermione nodded. “As do I. Harry’s become my best friend, other than Ginny, in the past couple of months, and I’d hate to see that end...”

Severus nodded back at her. “Of course.”

“Other than the whole thing with Blaise, however, Harry’s been normal,” Hermione informed him with a smile.

“What is considered ‘normal’ nowadays, Hermione?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “You know, I find myself unable to answer that question in an objective manner, considering that its definition means something different to every person you find yourself in contact with. Ask someone two hundred years ago what it meant, you’ll likely get an answer about farming. Ask someone twenty years ago, and the new normal was considered factory work. And when it comes to yesterday, today, and tomorrow, you will also find yourself discovering different answers. And it’s not merely limited to your occupation, but family, and friends, not to mention many other things that people find themselves involved in, especially when it comes to both a regular and an irregular basis.”

Severus found himself smiling from across his desk at Hermione. “Yes, I do suppose you are correct, my dear.”

Hermione bent down towards her bag then, and pulled out something wrapped with gold paper and a red silk ribbon. There was a card tucked beneath the ribbon itself, with the name _Severus_ written in Hermione’s elegant script. “I didn’t want to wait until the parties to give this over to you, or to have it backed up in the Christmas post.”

Severus smiled, touched, as he reached out and took the wrapped gift from Hermione. “Thank you, Hermione. Shall I open it now, then?”

“Please,” she said, bouncing on her seat again.

Severus chuckled good-naturedly at that; she had done it at the age of six when he discovered her and hadn’t stopped since. Carefully, he pulled at the ribbon, and his jaw dropped at what lay within the gold paper. “Hermione...”

“Don’t you like it?” she asked.

“I...” Severus stared down at the book in the paper, titled _The Wicked Count and the Trials of Fire_ , the very same title of the unfinished manuscript in Harry’s bag.

“Open up the front cover,” Hermione said softly.

Severus reached down and opened the front cover as Hermione had bidden him to, and raised his eyebrows at the words there. “‘ _Not everything is as it seems_ ,” he read. “ _Reality is an illusion, nothing is real, life is but a dream_ ’.” He read the final part of the inscription to himself, thinking that the words were for him and him alone.

_Severus, while I am not ready to tell you the whole truth, know this. The person posing as Linfred Hardwin is a model from Bulgaria known as Viktor Krum, for the real Linfred must be kept a secret for another seven months. Don’t ask me until then, for I fear that the conclusion you seek will end up unanswered._

“Severus?” Hermione asked.

Severus shut the book, and promptly put it in his upper desk drawer; he hadn’t even opened up the card that had come with it. “A most thoughtful gift, Hermione,” he said, and saw that the girl visibly drew back at his tone of voice; he had never spoken to her thus, in all the years he had known her, as if she was a stranger to him. And yet, perhaps, at the end of the day, she truly was just that. A stranger.

“Well,” Hermione said, speaking at last, her tone slightly awkward and formal, “I suppose I should let you get on with your work. See you for the parties,” she said, and picked up her bag carefully, and zipped it up as she all but fled from the room.


	6. Independent and Dependent Sections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All about Blaise and Harry will be explained herein!

Harry wasn’t sure how he managed to get out of bed the morning after Draco’s Halloween party, especially after Severus had seen the manuscript and left in a hurry. Nevertheless, he forced himself out of there, and swallowed the pain medication before joining Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco for breakfast, which was delicious. He was introduced properly to Narcissa, Draco’s mother, who was an extremely well put-together woman, especially given that her soon-to-be ex-husband was in prison awaiting trial.

Harry returned home later on that morning after Sirius and Remus picked him up, giving as short answers as possible to how his time at the party had gone. He could hardly tell his carers that he had literally thrown himself at his own social worker, and that they’d spent the night together to boot. Even though the age of consent was sixteen, Severus was still in a position of authority over him, so it wasn’t as if they could do anything until Harry had aged out of the care system, if Severus was still interested, that is.

Come Monday, Harry said goodbye to Sirius and Remus and hopped into Draco’s car, making small talk with his four new friends. Draco dropped off Ginny and Hermione first, and Harry pretended to be looking at the architecture of the nearby buildings around the City of London School for Girls as two snogging sessions took place around him—Draco and Ginny in the front of the car, and Ron and Hermione just beside him. Finally, when school was just around the corner from beginning, Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Ginny and Hermione said their farewells, before Harry was invited up into the front of the car, and they sped off in the direction of their own school.

Harry, Ron, and Draco immediately headed to physics once Draco’s car was placed in its reserved space in the car park, and Mr. Quirrell was already letting students into the lab classroom. Harry and Ron took their typical seats together, while Draco sat at the next table with another close friend of his, Blaise. Harry and Ron quickly took out their physics textbook, the second edition of _Modern Physics: For Scientists and Engineers_ by John R. Taylor, Chris D. Zafiratos, Michael A. Dubson, and Harry wondered how three men could work together on one subject to produce a textbook.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Mr. Quirrell as he made his way to the front of the class, his precise lecture notes already written on the chalkboard. “Today we’ll be discussing time dilation, which can be classified as the difference in elapsed time measured by two clocks, either due to them having a velocity relative to each other, or by there being a gravitational potential difference between their locations. As such,” he continued, “I’ve decided to shake things up a bit, with this new topic, which we will be discussing until our first term ends. The shake-up, as I just mentioned, will involve people swapping partners. For example, Mr. Longbottom will now be pairing up with Mr. Finnigan, and Mr. Thomas will be paired with Mr. McLaggen. I shall continue to list off the new groups. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley; Mr. Macmillan and Mr. Smith; Mr. Finch-Fletchley and Mr. Boot; Mr. Corner and Mr. Goldstein; Mr. Hopkins and Mr. Crabbe; Mr. Goyle and Mr. Entwhistle; Mr. Nott and Mr. Malone; Mr. Cornfoot and Mr. Rivers; and Mr. Zabini and Mr. Potter. Any questions?”

When no questions were forthcoming from the male teenagers, Mr. Quirrell encouraged them to move tables so that they were sitting with their new partners. Not one to be chastised for not obeying authority figures, Harry immediately grabbed his things and swapped places with Draco, and smiled at Blaise. On the few occasions they’d talked, Blaise had been nothing but polite to Harry, and Draco had told him of his aptitude in physics, which wouldn’t hurt Harry, as it was likely his weakest subject.

“Guess we’re partners now,” Blaise said.

Harry laughed, and was relieved when Blaise joined him. “Guess so.”

“Spend the first quarter hour getting acquainted with your new partner to ensure that the pair of you will work well together,” Mr. Quirrell said from the front of the classroom. “After that, we will be discussing the lecture topic for the rest of class. Don’t hesitate to share contact information with your new partner, as you will be working on your mid-term assignments together for this class.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said softly.

“It’s all right,” Blaise assured him.

“I’m pants at this,” Harry admitted.

Blaise grinned. “Don’t worry. I can help you. Draco says you’re the best note-taker in class, and we’ll need plenty of notes, considering that this is a new topic for all of us.”

Harry was amazed at Blaise’s ability to compliment people, especially since it was sincere, given that he hadn’t had much experience with either. “I can’t thank you enough for that,” he said. “It’s... Been a hell of a time.”

“You were in care, weren’t you?” Blaise asked, and at Harry’s flush, he backpedaled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just that I volunteer in one of the big London hospitals and see a lot of children who are part of the care system.”

“Are you stereotyping me?”

“That’s one way to look at it, even though I certainly don’t mean to,” Blaise admitted nervously, drawing a dark hand through his equally dark hair. “You all have a particular wide-eyed look that I just can’t seem to shake.”

Harry blinked. “Wide-eyed look?”

“Yeah,” Blaise replied. “Like you’re hungry. Not just for food, although I’m sure that a lot of kids and teens in care would benefit from a good meal.”

“A lot of us are starved for affection,” Harry admitted, and Blaise’s dark eyes took on a new wave of understanding then. “The problem is, a lot of us haven’t been treated correctly over the years, and so we either don’t know how to show affection appropriately, or we just don’t know how to ask for it. And then it comes down to asking for it from the right people, because sometimes we can end up in terrible situations because of who we decide to trust.”

Blaise sighed. “Blimey. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Harry shrugged. “Unfortunately, the lot of us get used to it.”

“My younger sisters were in care,” Blaise said quietly, and Harry immediately felt bad for generalizing Blaise’s words.

“How old are they?”

“Aideen is eleven, and Hestia is seven,” Blaise told him. “Mum and Dad couldn’t have any more kids after me, and so we all decided as a family to foster. They’re biological siblings, and they came to us when they were five and one respectively. I was eleven, and I was a right git to the two of them at first, because Hestia cried all the time, and Aideen thought it was appropriate to go into my bedroom and mess up my stuff.”

“Underlying issues,” Harry said softly.

“You’re not kidding,” Blaise said with a smile. “Mum and Dad got great counselors for the girls to work out their issues, and we adopted them when they were eight and four.”

“What do your mum and dad do?” Harry asked.

“Dad’s a barrister for the London courts, and seems to like it,” Blaise replied with a shrug. “My mum owns Sienna’s Sorridere, that Italian restaurant in Downtown London.”

“You’re Italian?” Harry asked sarcastically with a grin.

“On both sides,” Blaise confirmed. “Dad’s people come from Tuscany and Kenya, while Mum’s people originally came exclusively from Palermo in Sicily.”

“I love Italian food,” Harry told Blaise.

Blaise grinned at him. “Careful. Once my mum hears that and sees you, she’ll want to fatten you up, and fast. She can be as bad as Mrs. Weasley is sometimes.”

“They’re friends?”

“Closest friends I’ve ever seen,” Blaise confirmed with a laugh. “Now that Ginny’s so far into school, Mrs. Weasley will come to the restaurant sometimes on weekdays and help Mum make desserts. It gets more customers in the door, due to the fusion fare of both British and Italian food.”

“Now you’re making me hungry,” Harry responded with a laugh.

“Bring Sirius and Remus to the restaurant this weekend,” Blaise encouraged, and Harry was amazed that Blaise had so considerately remembered the names of his guardians. “Our parents can talk about whatever it is adults talk about, and we can get some work done for our project.”

“Any chance of getting fed?” Harry joked.

“More than a chance, Harry,” Blaise replied, and Harry found that he thought Blaise’s eyes were beautiful, thus potentially creating a new angle for _The Wicked_ _Count_ series. “Just let me know what your favorites are. I’m sure my mum’ll make them.”

~*~

The next couple of days seemed to fly by quickly, and Harry found himself looking forward to physics in the mornings, as it meant that he could sit and chat with Blaise for a few minutes before class began. He seemed to be flourishing within the class itself, as Blaise actually took the opportunity to explain intricate details of various lecture subjects with him, instead of Ron tossing the textbook at him and telling him to find the answers within the footnotes. Blaise seemed to relish in these teaching moments with Harry, and Harry found himself equally excited, because he would get to go to Blaise’s family restaurant that Saturday evening with Sirius and Remus, who were delighted that Harry had made yet another friend.

When Thursday finally arrived, Harry was pleased to accept a ride from Blaise to his appointment with Severus. Promptly at three-thirty, Harry trooped into Severus’s office and negotiated with his school bag briefly for a moment before he plunked himself down in the offered chair. He accepted Severus’s offer for tea and biscuits, but Harry sensed that Severus was aware of his feelings of uneasiness. Harry swallowed where he sat, but nevertheless thanked Severus for the steaming mug of tea and perched upon the edge of his seat.

“Let me be the first to put your mind at ease,” came Severus’s clipped tone as the social worker moved to sit opposite Harry at his own desk.

“Yes?” Harry whispered, hating that his mug trembled slightly in his hand, as he grew more and more uncomfortable with the situation at hand.

“You and I did not engage in complete sexual activity that night,” Severus said steadily, and Harry found himself automatically breathing a sigh of relief. “We engaged in inappropriate kissing and touching, but nothing more.”

“Thank you,” Harry told him, knowing just how much trouble Severus could’ve gotten in, had the alternative happened.

“Yes, well, my type of man does not fall unconscious during my exploits,” Severus told him, and Harry noticed just how awkward the man’s tone was.

“I was unconscious?” Harry asked, his voice coming out reminiscent of a squeak, and found that he was uncomfortable with that fact.

Severus nodded, and Harry’s uneasiness did not waver. “Yes,” the man told him, and Harry noted the cold demeanor with each passing word between the two of them, which did nothing to change his emotions. “After we made it up to your borrowed bedroom, and you said some rather pretty, yet hasty, words. However, you went limp in my arms.”

 _Pretty words_? Harry thought to himself. _If I can write_ The Wicked Count _sober, just imagine what I can say while pissed_... “That doesn’t explain why I was merely in boxers the following morning when Hermione woke us up,” Harry put in, knowing that he had to say something in response to Severus’s words.

“I figured you’d be more comfortable that way,” Severus said plainly, and Harry momentarily hated himself for painting Severus in such a negative light. “I don’t often like to fall asleep in fancy-dress, but, perhaps, you do.”

“No, I really don’t,” Harry said softly, picking up his mug and sipping it slowly, wondering who in their right mind could possibly sleep comfortably in fancy dress. “Thank you for your consideration to my state of sleep dress.”

Severus gave a stiff nod then, and Harry noticed him twirling his finger about the rim of his own mug, and caught himself, mid-thought, about all the possibilities of what those fingers could do, both good and wicked. “I’m afraid I must ask you to explain why there appeared to be an unfinished manuscript in your bag.”

Harry choked on his tea, and took a moment to clear his throat. His eyes were watering and he trembled slightly as he finally got up the courage to ask, “Why?”

“Well, Harry, I am merely curious as to why you seemed to brush off all our previous discussions of _The Wicked Count_ , when you yourself were dressed as its protagonist at Draco’s Halloween celebrations. And then, of course, there’s the not-so-small matter of the manuscript...”

Harry set his mug down and lowered his eyes to the floor, immediately thinking that consenting to attending this meeting without Sirius or Remus with him had been a bad idea. “I don’t see what I do in my private life is any of your business,” he said, hating how sulky he perceived himself to sound. “I am hardly breaking any laws here...”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Severus allowed. “However, I think you and I both know that Linfred Hardwin is a native of Bulgaria, quite a bit taller than you, and not to mention the facial hair he boasts...”

Harry kept his eyes averted, but found himself inwardly seething that even someone as intelligent as Severus couldn’t see through the lies that both Oliver Wood and Viktor Krum had successfully painted for the public. “Just as you and the rest of the public surmise,” he muttered before he could stop himself, hating how petulant he sounded.

“Harry, if there’s something troubling you, be it personal or general, now would be the time to discuss it. Remember, I’m just here to help you,” Severus told him.

Harry looked up, wanting to say something, when his phone suddenly went off from within his bag. “Sorry,” he said quickly, and went to answer it. “It’s important,” he said as he saw that it was Blaise’s name popping up. “Can I have a moment?” he asked.

Severus spread his hands. “By all means,” he said, getting to his feet and crossing the room. He opened the office door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door a crack.

“Hey,” Harry said into the phone.

“Hey, sorry about this,” came Blaise’s reply, and he truly seemed apologetic. “I know that this is probably a bad time...”

“No, it’s not a bad time,” Harry assured him, not wanting there to be bad blood between them, after all Blaise had done for him. “I’m just in that meeting I told you about.”

“I miss you,” Blaise said sarcastically, as he always did whenever they’d parted ways in person since they’d become partners.

“I miss you, too,” Harry told him with a laugh.

“Hey, did you talk to Sirius and Remus about this weekend, about what we talked about what to do after we have dinner?” Blaise asked him.

Harry nodded, then reminded himself that Blaise couldn’t see him. “I did talk to them, yeah, and they said that you were welcome to come to Grimmauld.”

“Draco’s been going on about the place for years, so I’d love to see it. But I also want to show you mine as well...”

“Yes, or yours, too, they just want to meet your mum first,” Harry assured him.

“And my dad, I hope,” Blaise said with a laugh, and Harry could practically picture him throwing back his head. “I guess you’re starting to understand how parents are, now that you’re with them...”

Harry chuckled at Blaise’s words. “Yeah, I know how parents are; at least, I’m starting to figure it out,” he continued with a laugh, a bubble of hope burgeoning in his chest that he didn’t sound like a complete lunatic. “All right...”

“Hey, did you check with them about coming to my match before you head home?” Blaise wanted to know, as he was very passionate about his football.

“Yes, I’m coming to your match tomorrow after class is over.”

“You’ll be there to cheer me on,” Blaise went on, overtly gushy.

“Stop,” Harry went on, laughing along with Blaise.

“You’re getting so much better in physics,” Blaise assured him. “I think you’re kicking my arse when it comes to answering lecture questions.”

“No, you’re better,” Harry replied.

“Hey, my mum is calling me to watch the girls before the dinner rush at the restaurant tonight, so I’ve got to get off.”

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” Harry replied.

“Back at you, Harry,” Blaise responded.

“Bye,” Harry said, and cut the phone call.

Severus walked back into the office then, and Harry very nearly flushed as the man looked him over, but found that he was perplexed when he merely returned to his desk without peppering him with questions as to who had been on the phone. “So, how are your classes?”

Harry blinked, taken aback at the change of pace, but straightened up in his seat, hoping not to get into too much detail. “Fine, thank you.”

“Did you inform Sirius and Remus about your little detour a few weeks ago, with Draco, Mr. and Miss Weasley, and Hermione?”

Harry nodded, still slightly resentful at the notion that he’d been backed into a corner for taking a mental health day for the first time in his life. “I did, yes.”

“How did the conversation go?”

“They got me a puppy!” Harry exclaimed brightly, ignoring the look of shock on Severus’s face. “Her name is Hedwig, and she’s an Irish Setter,” he went on, finally noting just how shocked Severus seemed by this turn of events, and knew that there would be words shared between him and his carers.

~*~

Blaise’s match against St. Paul’s School had gone swimmingly on Friday evening, and Harry had even been permitted to invite Blaise around to Grimmauld Place afterwards. Blaise had called his folks and they’d permitted him to stay the night, with Sirius and Remus ordering the boys a couple of pizzas and allowing Blaise to sleep in Sirius’s brother Remus’s former bedroom. It had been thoughtful on Blaise’s part to pack an overnight bag beforehand, which his parents had handed over to him upon the conclusion of the game, along with the permission to stay with Harry that night at the Black family home.

“Am I correct in presuming that you seemed a bit distracted during the match?” Harry asked Blaise as they sat in Regulus’s bedroom, after Sirius and Remus had gone to bed, Hedwig asleep between them.

Blaise flushed to his ears and immediately shook his head. “No, of course not. Why would you presume something like that?”

Harry smirked, and noticed that Blaise was considering throwing a pillow at him. “Well, because you seemed to be staring at McLaggen pretty often. You even missed a couple of passes during the match because of it.”

“I most certainly did not!” Blaise cried out indignantly.

“Oh, well then,” Harry said, finding that he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at him, “perhaps we had better call McLaggen and ask him why he thinks you were staring at him. Mooning, I believe, is the correct term...”

“All right, all right,” Blaise said, managing to reach out and get Harry’s mobile away from him, although his flush didn’t diminish. “I admit it, okay? I was...mooning...after Cormac...”

“Cormac, eh?” Harry asked, his eyebrows going up and down in a dramatic fashion as Blaise grabbed ahold of a bolster. “Well, then, Blaise, explain it to me.”

“Look, only my parents and my sisters know,” he whispered, hunching his shoulders as he fingered the bolster in his hands, almost as if he was contemplating hiding his face in it, or throwing it at Harry. “They know about me being gay.”

“Who cares if you’re gay?” Harry asked, and Blaise’s dark eyes shot up to meet his. “Sirius and Remus are gay, and I’m gay. Nothing wrong with it.”

“Wait. You’re gay?!” Blaise demanded, eyes appearing as if they were in the process of popping out of his head, and Hedwig lifted her head, roused out of sleep, and looking between the two of them.

“Of course I am,” Harry replied with a laugh. “I’ve known for years that girls didn’t do it for me in that way. There’s a difference between finding someone attractive and being outright attracted to them. For example, Emma Thompson is a beautiful person, but you don’t see me writing her all the fan letters in the world, asking her for dinner.”

“Isn’t she married?” Blaise quipped.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I think so, but that’s not important, because it’s a hypothetical. Anyhow, if you fancy Cormac, you don’t need to worry about a thing. I won’t be blathering to the entire school that you fancy blokes. It’s your decision to tell people, if that’s what you eventually want to do, that is.”

“I’ll think about it,” Blaise replied.

The following evening, Harry, Sirius, and Remus followed Blaise’s directions to Sienna’s Sorridere, his mother’s restaurant, located about ten minutes away from the school. It was built with rich red-tinted cocobolo wood, and had massive windows, adorned on the inside with red velvet curtains. From the outside, Harry could also detect circular booths along the walls of the restaurant, with elegant tables dotting the rich wood floor, and expertly-cut crystal chandeliers adorning the ceiling, intermingled with paintings reminiscent of Raphael, Botticelli, da Vinci, Titian, and Michelangelo.

Sirius and Remus handed their keys to the valet before heading inside, and Sienna Zabini herself greeted the four of them.

“Thank you so much for taking care of my boy,” she said politely to Sirius and Remus. Sienna Zabini was beautiful, with Italian-tanned skin and engaging brown eyes, along with long, black hair which she kept flowing down her back. According to Blaise, she and his father, Luca, had married young, meaning that Sienna was only in her mid-thirties now. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet the both of you,” she said, and Harry was shocked when Sienna readily hugged both Sirius and Remus, who didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sienna,” Sirius said, mid-embrace.

“It smells delicious in here,” Remus reported once Sienna had let Sirius go and had moved on to embrace him.

“Thank you so much for saying so,” Sienna replied with a beam. She immediately turned to Harry then, but merely put out her hand, knowing that, based on Harry’s experiences within the care system, he likely wouldn’t wish to be so embraced by a perfect stranger. “And you, young man, must be Harry,” she said warmly, and shook his hand with both of hers. “Blaise has spoken so highly of you, and I’m always so pleased to meet one of his friends.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Zabini,” Harry told her politely, finding that he seemed to like the woman immediately, due to her warm demeanor.

“Oh, love, I’m not that old,” Sienna said with an elegant laugh, squeezing his hands one final time before letting him go. “Call me Sienna, please.”

“Sienna,” Harry said, and Blaise knocked his shoulder slightly.

“Now, come along, my dears. You all must be famished,” she said, and led them to a circular table towards the kitchen, where the smells intermingled and intensified. “Luca should be here shortly. I’m afraid a case of his ran a bit later than he originally expected, but he is on his way, never fear.”

“Where are the girls tonight, Mum?” Blaise asked.

“Your nonna is watching them at home, love,” Sienna told Blaise with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be well looked-after.” Sienna waited until Sirius and Remus had slipped into the booth, before showing Harry and Blaise to the one next to it. “Well, my dear boys,” she said as she gathered a bunch of menus, and handed two to Blaise and Harry, plus a pair to Sirius and Remus, “I suppose the two of you will be all right?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, Sienna. Thank you.”

“No problem, my dear,” she said, and slipped into the booth opposite Sirius and Remus.

“Want to know the specials tonight?” Blaise asked Harry.

Harry grinned at him. “Sure.”

“Tortellini with prosciutto, truffle risotto, Bistecca alla Fiorentina, chicken parmigiana, and Bottarga,” Blaise told him expertly, looking hungry even mentioning them.

Harry’s mouth watered. “Sounds enticing,” he said.

“Each entrée comes with an option of soup or salad, and the staff provides homemade garlic bread for the table,” Blaise went on. “Then, of course, you’ll have to have room for dessert. I always do,” Blaise said with a laugh.

When the waiter came by, Harry opted for the chicken parmigiana, while Blaise selected the tortellini with prosciutto. They each ordered a lemonade with their dinner, and Harry chose the Caesar salad, while Blaise chose minestrone soup. Harry and Blaise discussed their project at length, but decided to participate in the following week of lecture via Mr. Quirrell before they decided on a final aspect to use as their mid-term.

Harry enjoyed his entire meal, and met Luca Zabini beforehand, and he could clearly see that Blaise took most of his looks from his father’s side of the family. Luca himself was very accomplished in his chosen field, and seemed as warm as his wife when it came to demeanor. He sat with Sirius and Remus as his wife had done, but would constantly turn around and smile whenever he heard Harry and Blaise laughing together.

Once their entrées had been cleared and Blaise was eating a generous slice of tiramisu, and Harry was having custard zeppole, Harry noticed that Blaise’s demeanor had changed. He wasn’t upset, that Harry could readily deduce, but there was something clearly weighing on his mind. Harry waited for Blaise to bring it up, as he didn’t want to appear invasive, and was rewarded when Blaise had finished his dessert and lowered his fork.

“I have an idea,” he said slowly, “but it’s mad.”

“Tell me,” Harry said immediately.

Blaise picked up his napkin and delicately wiped his mouth. “Well, you’ve correctly deducted that I fancy Cormac...”

Harry smirked. “Wasn’t very hard to miss, to be honest.”

Blaise rolled his eyes at him, but pressed on, appearing as if he desperately wanted to get something off his chest. “Would you be willing to pose as my boyfriend?” he asked, and Harry’s eyes widened. “You know, just enough so that we can gauge if Cormac is into me that way as well...”

Harry swallowed. It wasn’t as if he would be betraying Severus, as his social worker had made it abundantly clear where they stood, considering that Harry wasn’t due to age out of the care system for another seven and a half months. “All right,” Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders at the proposition. “What would I have to do?”

“Hold my hand in public, let me whisper nonsense into your ear. Oh, and we’d have to laugh at each other’s jokes.”

“Even if they’re not funny?”

“ _Especially_ if they’re not funny,” Blaise told him. “I don’t know why couples do that. I think it speaks to their commitment to each other or something...”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. From an illogical standpoint if nothing else...”

“Precisely,” Blaise said with a laugh. “This also means that you’d have to come to any many of my matches as possible.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Harry told him.

“I’d also come with you to any events you’d want me to,” Blaise informed him. “With the holiday season coming up, there’ll be a lot of get-togethers. We’d have to be seen at them, just so people know that we’re serious about one another.”

Harry mulled it over for a moment, thinking it over. “And snogging?”

“If it’s appropriate, sure,” Blaise said. “We’re not into each other that way, so it might take a little getting used to. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Harry shook his head. “Snogging’s fine,” he told Blaise. “I don’t mind it. Besides, it could be fun, and...” He dropped his voice down to a whisper, knowing that he could trust Blaise with this information. “It just might get the bloke I want to get his arse into high gear, to the point where he might want to be with me, too...”

Blaise grinned. “Who is it?”

“My social worker,” Harry whispered.

“Blimey, Harry! That’s mad!”

“I know, I know,” Harry told him. “Which is why I need you to agree to something.”

“Well, since you’re agreeing to this charade, I may as well give you something in return,” Blaise said, thinking that the entire scenario seemed logical at this point. “What is it?”

Harry dragged his fingertip along the fine wood of the table they sat at. “Well, I may have spent the night with my social worker at Draco’s Halloween do,” Harry whispered to Blaise, and Blaise looked shocked.

“Harry, he could lose his job for that,” Blaise whispered.

Harry nodded at him. “Yeah, I know. We were both drunk, and we only snogged a few times and slept in the same bed. Key word being _slept_. We didn’t...”

“You didn’t shag?” Blaise guessed.

Harry quickly shook his head. “No, we...” He dropped his voice again. “After what I told you happened with Pettigrew, I’m not sure I’d be able to rise for the occasion, so to speak...”

Blaise nodded at Harry, his dark eyes concerned. “I’m really sorry,” he whispered, and gave Harry a tentative smile. “But that doesn’t tell me what you want me to do...”

Harry swallowed. “If anyone asks, I want you to play along, and tell everyone that you were the one who spent the night with me at the Halloween do,” he said, and Blaise looked shocked. “We can say that we wanted to keep our relationship a secret until we were sure about one another, and it would make for a conceivable timeline. Technically speaking, we’ve been together about seven weeks, today, as a matter of fact...”

Blaise considered that for a moment, and finally nodded. “Guess we’re going all-in here.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Remember, we have to seem convincing, otherwise Cormac may not give you the time of day.”

Blaise scoffed. “I would hate for that to happen.”

“You’ve been waiting for him a long time, haven’t you?” Harry asked.

Blaise sighed. “Since we were thirteen,” he said softly. “I just don’t want to wait anymore. He also got early acceptance into Birmingham, and I would like to think that this means that we’ve got a shot at a future together.”

Harry reached out and took Blaise’s hand. “One step at a time.”

Blaise flashed Harry a grin. “Don’t remind me,” he replied jokingly.

~*~

It was a week later that the Magical Kinship Christmas party was a-go, and Sirius and Remus were pleased to see that Harry was bringing Blaise along as his date. The boys had informed Harry’s guardians that they had spent the night together during the Malfoy Halloween festivities, and although momentarily shocked, both men took it in stride and offered support to their relationship, as it appeared to be. Once they arrived at the fostering agency, Sirius and Remus said goodbye to the boys, while Harry and Blaise went to greet Ron and Hermione, Draco and Ginny, and Bill and Fleur.

“Harry! Blaise!” Ron said with a grin; if anyone supported them in the student body the most, it had to be Harry’s best mate. “Fred and George are here.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked.

“Front and center!” called a redhead, draping himself over Ron’s shoulders.

“Don’t leave me out!” called a second, and pressed a kiss to Hermione’s cheek.

“Oi, George!” Ron cried out as Hermione giggled. “That’s my girlfriend!”

“Please,” George said, rolling his eyes. “While Hermione is a beautiful young woman, you know I only have eyes for Angelina,” he said, and nodded to a young woman across the room, with skin the color of cocoa, who was speaking to Fleur.

“Well, _you_ Fred...” Ron began.

“And you should know well enough by now, little brother, that Lee is the only one for me,” Fred said rather sharply, and a man with similar coloring to Angelina stepped forward, and pressed a kiss to Fred’s cheek.

“Lee Jordan, partner at Weasley’s Nightclub,” said the man, and shook hands with both Harry and Blaise respectively. “Hopefully we’ll see you there soon.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking over at Blaise.

Blaise grinned. “Absolutely,” he replied.

“Christmas is a happening time of year,” George informed them as Angelina excused herself from her discussion with Fleur and Bill, and moved to stand beside George, who automatically wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Talking about the club again, love?” Angelina asked, kissing George’s cheek. “Oh, you must be Harry and Blaise,” she said with a smile, and shook their hands. “Pleased to meet you. Oh, Blaise, I heard you’re going to Birmingham next fall.”

Blaise nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Ang is a third-year there,” George said indulgently, pulling her closer, and Angelina flushed becomingly, lowering her eyes as she shook her head, smile on her face. “She’s training to be a nurse.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about the professors,” Blaise said.

Angelina grinned at Blaise. “I’d love to,” she replied.

Harry felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see Hermione standing there, and was ushered away by her, while Ginny acted as their cover, likely in on it. Slightly surprised, Harry was led to an empty corridor, and turned to face Hermione then, shrugging his shoulders at her in confusion. “Something on your mind then, ‘Mione?” he asked.

She sighed. “Yeah. Something so big that I had to get you away from everyone to ask you a direct question.”

Harry blinked. “‘Direct question’? I don’t understand. What are you...?”

“Stop playing games, Harry,” Hermione hissed, looking around as if to be sure that they were truly alone. “I know that you weren’t with Blaise that night.”

Harry tried to play it cool, but got the distinct sensation that his blood had run cold at her accusation. “What night wasn’t I with Blaise, Hermione?” he asked slowly.

“What other night could I possibly be referring to?” she asked, throwing her arms up into the air in a moment of exasperation, all the while looking around to make sure they hadn’t been followed. “Halloween, Harry. I know that you were with someone that night, but it couldn’t have been Blaise.”

Harry clenched his teeth. “You’re bringing this up now?” he demanded, fighting to keep his temper with her; it wasn’t her fault she was nearly too smart for her own good. “Blaise will be devastated if this gets out...”

“Cut the shit, Harry,” Hermione snapped, and Harry’s eyes widened; he’d never heard her swear before, and it was a complete shock to him that she would start now. “I know that you weren’t with Blaise that night because you’re clearly hung up on Severus.”

Harry felt himself flush clear to his ears as shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hermione,” he said in a clipped tone, and moved to brush past her, in an effort to get back to the party.

“I know plenty,” Hermione replied, reaching out and making a grab for his arm to prevent him from leaving. “Like how you were making eyes at one another on Halloween. Or the fact that I saw you two snogging when I came out from the loo!”

Harry whirled around then, his eyes filled with fear. “You can’t tell anyone!” he cried out then, his voice shaking. “Severus could lose his position, as well as be sacked! Please, Hermione, don’t...”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Harry,” Hermione said, her voice far gentler now, as she saw just how upset her friend was at the notion of Severus losing his living. “You don’t have anything to worry about. He wants you.”

“Yeah, but he can’t have me,” Harry whispered, hating it when tears escaped from his eyes and trailed down his face. “Not while I’m still in care, anyway. Not until I’m eighteen...”

“He’ll wait, if that’s what it takes,” Hermione said gently.

Harry swallowed. “Blaise and I are just pretending,” he whispered, and it was Hermione’s turn to permit her eyes to widen. “You can’t tell anyone. I’m just doing it to help him out, but you can’t tell anyone, Hermione, I mean it.”

“You and Blaise aren’t madly in love?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “We’re just interested in helping the other out. And getting the attention of our true heart’s desire in the process.”

Hermione sighed, dragging a hand through her hair; she found some tinsel there, likely placed there by the twins, and let out an annoyed sound as she tossed it away. “Well, rest assured that I won’t be telling anyone,” she told him softly.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“There is, however, one thing you can do for me,” Harry said softly and, reaching into his overcoat—which he had yet to take off upon arrival at the party—and drew out a gold-wrapped gift with a red silk ribbon. “I finished it,” he said. “I finished _The Wicked Count and the Trials of Fire_ ,” he told her. “I sent it to Oliver a few weeks ago, and he says it should be on shelves by Valentine’s Day, as the distributor owes him a favor.”

“That’s amazing, Harry,” Hermione said.

“It’s an advanced copy,” Harry explained.

She nodded with a laugh. “Somehow, I figured that out.”

“You’re meeting with Severus this week, right?”

Hermione nodded a second time. “Yeah, I am. Doubt he remembers, what with the influx of children that come along during holiday time... God knows I was one of them,” she whispered, but shook it off. “Yeah, I’m meeting with Severus. Why?”

“I want you to bring this to him,” Harry said softly, handing over the gift. “I don’t want you to say specifically who it’s from, if you can help it, although I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

Hermione sighed and took the gift from Harry. “Yes, I suspect so.”

“He knows, you know,” Harry said softly, and Hermione raised her eyes to his.

“Knows what? That you love him?”

Harry swallowed. “I do love him,” he admitted, “but he also knows that I’m Linfred Hardwin, as he may have stumbled into the manuscript in my bag on the night we spent together,” Harry told her, trying to keep it together.

“Oh, Harry...”

“I just think that maybe I’m too far gone,” he whimpered, hating showing his emotions like this, but also knowing that Hermione would understand.

“Too far gone?” she asked. “What are you...?”

“I just think that maybe he won’t want me, based on what happened to Pettigrew,” Harry said quietly, and Hermione immediately wrapped her arms around him. “I’m broken, ‘Mione. I’m so broken, and I can hardly expect someone as good as Severus Snape to even attempt to pick up the pieces the way I need him to,” he said, and continued sobbing as Hermione held him close, whispering soft words of encouragement into his ear, to the point that they were so distracted that they didn’t hear the footsteps behind them.


	7. Circumstantial Complements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended just to write the first scene after I realized who had caught Harry and Hermione's conversation, but ended up writing the entire chapter. So, enjoy!

It was the second Friday in January, which also happened to be Severus’s thirty-ninth birthday, when he was finishing up the paperwork pertaining to Bill and Fleur’s adoption of young Victoire, who they had decided to adopt over Christmas, when there was a resounding knock upon his office door. Severus shuffled the paperwork, thinking that it could’ve been Albus wanting to check over the progress, and looked up.

“Enter,” he said.

The door came open then, and an irate-looking Sirius Black stepped over the threshold and stomped into the office, slamming the door behind him. His dark eyes raked over Severus with pure revulsion and anger, and he was practically shaking as he stood before him. Sirius had taken some time off in the wake of the office Christmas celebrations, spending the holidays with Harry and that dog of his at Grimmauld Place, while Remus was the one bringing home the bread and barely taking any time off for the holidays.

“Sirius,” Severus said, giving him a nod. “Good holiday?”

Sirius approached Severus’s desk and stood before the visitor’s chair, wrapping his fingers around it to control his shaking. “I don’t suppose you know all that happened over the course of the holidays, do you?”

Severus shook his head. “Hermione mentioned that you and Remus bought Harry a computer, and that he’s enjoying it, but that’s all I know...”

“Harry has agreed to be adopted by me,” Sirius said, cutting across Severus, who found he was shocked that he had yet to hear of this information.

“Just you?”

“Yes, of course just me, for, as you know, our country has not yet caught up completely to the times, and Remus and I would be unable to adopt Harry together, no matter how much we may want to,” Sirius spat at him.

Severus folded his hands atop his desk and nodded sagely. “Well, I wish you and Harry all the best,” he told him. “I take it you want me to sign my approval for the adoption? If that’s what you’re worried about, Sirius, you needn’t be. Harry has made great strides while under your care, not just academically, but physically and emotionally as well, and I think it would do him well to be adopted into such a wonderful family.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at him. “I know about Halloween.”

Severus cocked an eyebrow. “What? That Harry and Blaise spent the night together? I know that it was the talk of the school for a while there...”

“I know Harry didn’t spend the night with Blaise the night of Draco’s Halloween do,” Sirius said, the rage radiating from him as he attempted to hold his temper. “I know that the only one that Harry spent the night with that night was you.”

Severus did his best not to scream at Sirius, although he himself knew full well that he was clearly the one in the wrong here, given all that he had done. “What of it?”

“What...? What of it?” Sirius scoffed, shaking his head. “I could easily go to Albus with this, Severus, and you know it. One word from me, and it’ll be your job.”

“But you haven’t yet, Sirius, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing there,” Severus intoned, getting slowly to his feet and regarding Sirius coldly. “What brought you here?”

“Firstly, that I want you to agree to stay the hell away from my son!” Sirius yelled, the aura of protection clear as he gritted his teeth at the man, resembling a rabid dog.

“And second?”

“And secondly, I want _all_ the details from that night, you charlatan!” he demanded.

Severus inclined his head slowly, knowing that name-calling certainly wouldn’t help matters at all. “There were kisses exchanged, Sirius, followed by the two of us sleeping in the same bed, nothing more, nothing less,” he informed him, and was relieved when Sirius visibly relaxed some. “I don’t take men to my bed, no matter how much they claim to want it, when they are drunk, Sirius. You know me better than that. Harry and I, although there is an attraction there, cannot legally act upon it until he is eighteen-years-old. I explained to him as much, and I fear that I hurt him, but, regardless, I won’t do anything to put my position here at Magical Kinship in jeopardy. I won’t.”

“Normally, I would have punched your lights out for claiming that Harry claimed to want it, but, the fact remains, I know his feelings on the matter,” Sirius said softly.

Severus blinked. “He told you this, did he?”

“No,” Sirius replied, shaking his head. “I heard Harry speaking to Hermione on the night of the Christmas celebrations here.”

Severus nodded. “Ah, I see. That’s why you asked Albus for some time off, isn’t it?” he asked, thinking that that was the reason.

Sirius sighed. “It was, yes.... Harry spoke plainly to Hermione, as if she was his closest friend, even closer than Ron...”

“I suspect that Harry loves and cares for Ron and Hermione equally, albeit in very different ways,” Severus informed Sirius softly. “With Ron, he can have fun, and see what a large family is like, complete with a surrogate mother in the form of Molly Weasley. As for Hermione, he can identify with her on the level of the pair of them mutually growing up in care, for children’s experiences within the care system tend to overlap now and again. While Hermione was able to find a good home and a family rather quickly...”

“Thanks to you,” Sirius observed softly.

“In part to me, surely,” Severus told him with a small smile. “But Hermione will never forget what it was like to have the feeling that she was unwanted, and although Harry has lived with that notion far longer, they can still empathize with one another because of it.”

Sirius sighed, his shoulders slacking. “You won’t prevent Harry from being adopted by me?” he asked him softly.

Severus shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Very well,” Sirius replied, the anger seeping out of him. “I’m not going to Albus because I trust you when you say that that was all that happened on Halloween, because of your promise not to block the adoption, because Remus told me he’d leave me if I made a scene, and because Harry loves you.”

Severus felt as if a football had slammed him in the chest as he leaned forward. “I’m sorry... What? Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say that Harry loves me?” he asked, shaking his head.

Sirius sighed. “He claims to,” he told him, shaking his head. “Why I don’t know... You’re not my type,” the man explained.

Severus couldn’t stop himself from laughing aloud at the very idea of that. “Don’t worry,” he assured Sirius in between guffaws. “You’re not mine either.”

Sirius sighed, thumbing the wooden edges of the chair. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but I think Albus is right.”

“Right?”

“I know I said so a few weeks back, but I think that it would be good for Harry to hear about Lily from you,” Sirius said softly.

Severus sighed. “It was a very painful time for me, Sirius, as you well know.”

Sirius nodded. “I know,” he told him. “But Harry only really knows about James, due to the blaggard getting his rights back to him, and his subsequent raising by him, and I use that term as lightly as possible,” the man said bitterly.

Severus rolled his shoulders. “What do you suggest?”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d want to keep you as far away from Harry as possible,” Sirius told him softly. “However, these are not normal circumstances, and, as I’ve known you for years and am fully aware of how much your job means to you, I know you will not overstep. Plus, I believe you when you say that you and Harry did not completely cross the line during Halloween at Narcissa’s place, so I suppose I can extend an invitation for dinner to you at Grimmauld Place, so that you and Harry can discuss Lily.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Sirius?” Severus asked. “Harry was a bit reluctant to talk to me the last time, and I’m not sure that us sitting down for a meal together is such a good idea...”

“I, on the other hand, think it is a smashing idea,” Sirius said firmly, and lowered his voice. “I think that you can begin to close the book, so to speak, on Harry’s time in the care system, and you need to do final evaluations and whatnot.”

Severus swallowed. “Well, yes, but...”

“And, Remus and I will be there the entire time,” Sirius reminded him.

Severus sighed. “If that’s a cue for me not to attempt to take advantage of my time with Harry, then you needn’t bother, Sirius. I would hardly throw myself at the boy...”

“Young man.”

“Fine. I would hardly throw myself at the young man beneath your roof, or without his permission, or while I was still his social worker, or while he’s still under eighteen. It was a drastic misstep that I participated in on Halloween, and I will confide in you how ashamed of myself I am for my behavior.”

“I don’t mean that it will be a negative experience for you, Severus,” Sirius told him. “Against my better judgement, and due to Remus’s persuading, Remus and I will permit you to have chaperoned visits with Harry at Grimmauld.”

Severus nearly stumbled where he stood, for he could not fully comprehend what it was the man opposite him was saying. “Sirius, could you explain this for me, please?”

“What are your feelings for Harry?”

Severus sputtered at the question. “Excuse me?”

“Harry claims to love you,” Sirius said firmly. “Now, how do you feel about my son, or are we all just wasting our time?”

Severus dragged a hand through his hair. “I care for Harry a great deal, more than I ever have for anyone in my life,” he confessed. “I didn’t know that he was entering care when Albus initially introduced us, and even you can admit that he looks a bit older than he actually is...”

Sirius nodded. “I can agree to that, yes.”

“I thought he was the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on,” Severus whispered. “He looked like a Raphael to me, and all I wanted to do was speak to him, get to know him, and then, once the timing was right, ask him to be mine...”

“Are you falling?” Sirius asked, his question firm.

Severus sighed. “I’ve fallen,” he said quietly.

Sirius looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment but, after coming to the realization that all of this could have been a forgone conclusion, nodded his head. “Very well,” he said, although he sounded reluctant to sanction any of this. “Dinner, next Saturday. Will you be there?”

Severus nodded. “I’ve no plans.”

“Wonderful,” Sirius said. “Harry’s cooking during the weekends.”

Severus blinked. “He can cook?”

“Yes, of course,” Sirius said with a smile. “He’s accepted early acceptance into Le Cordon Bleu already for the autumn.”

“Le Cordon Bleu?” Severus whispered, his throat threatening to close up at the notion that Harry could be moving to France.

“In _London_ , Severus,” Sirius informed him. “They do have a school here, you know, and Harry has decided to stick close for the foreseeable future.”

Severus breathed a sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t begrudge him Paris, you know...”

Sirius smiled then, and Severus came to the conclusion that all would be well. “Perhaps not, Severus, but now there could be a way that you can enjoy it with him one day,” he said, and slipped from Severus’s office.

As Severus sank into his chair and massaged his temples, he realized that he hadn’t questioned Sirius about Harry’s supposed relationship with Blaise, and wondered if he would be able to do so himself when he dined at Grimmauld.

~*~

Severus drove to the Chapel Market before heading over to Grimmauld Place to pick up a few things before what would prove to be an awkward family meal. He bought a bottle of red wine from a street vendor, as well as a box of dark chocolates, and some fresh white truffles. He left the market shortly thereafter and made his way down the cobblestone street towards his car, which he took and drove directly to Grimmauld.

Sirius met him at the door with a tight smile, which soon turned relatively friendly when he offered him the bottle of red and the chocolates.

Severus was slightly taken aback when Remus showed up, complimented the chocolates and took them, steering Sirius into the living room, telling Severus to hang up his coat and to join Harry in the kitchen, where he was preparing dinner. Doing as he was told and keeping ahold of the bag of truffles and bottle of wine, Severus hung his coat and walked down the darkened hallway towards the kitchen, letting himself in via the swiveling door.

“That you, Sirius?” called Harry as he stood in front of the stove, stirring something, the intoxicating aroma of fresh cooking filtering throughout the kitchen. “I thought I told you that we needed red wine... Was the cellar bare?”

“I don’t think my name is Sirius, according to my birth records,” Severus said softly, and Harry dropped the wooden spoon he was holding before he whirled around.

“Severus,” he breathed, his cheeks flaming automatically.

“The same,” Severus replied with a quick smile in Harry’s direction, placing the bottle of red and the bag of truffles onto the small wooden table in the kitchen.

“Sirius let you in?” Harry asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose, and wrapping his arms around himself. He looked positively delicious that day, with a green jumper over a white T-shirt, and jeans which seemed to hug him everywhere...

“Naturally,” Severus told him with a nod. “I am not in the habit of breaking into people’s houses.”

Harry visibly swallowed, before turning back around to check over the meal. “I’m making a sauce for the pasta, but it smells like it’s missing something...”

Severus crossed the room and looked into the pot Harry was cooking in; it was a cream sauce, and there appeared to be salt, pepper, and chunks of garlic in it already. “Other than the salt and pepper and garlic, what have you put into it?”

“Button onions, freshly grated parmesan, white wine, and butter,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I don’t get it. Usually my experiments in the kitchen go so well...”

“It smells incredible and I am sure it will taste the same,” Severus assured him, before he turned around then, making a quick grab for the bag upon the table and offered it to Harry. “They were a good price at the Chapel Market,” he explained as he handed the bag over, once he realized Harry would not reach for it.

Harry gazed at Severus skeptically for a moment before he slowly permitted himself to open the bag, and gasped at its contents. “White truffles,” he whispered in awe. “These are so expensive...”

“Straight for the source is always the best, with little village markets being a close second,” came Severus’s authoritative tone, and Harry looked up at him. “I just thought that you might have something you could do with these. Sirius told me about your selection of university, so of course you know how to cook with truffles.”

Harry worried his lower lip before retrieving a brush from one of the kitchen drawers, and carefully laid each truffle onto a fresh cutting board. “I’m surprised you didn’t tip Sirius off, what with the Christmas present I had Hermione give to you,” he said softly, using the brush to get off any offending matter.

“What should I need to tip him off about?”

Harry quickly lowered the brush, which had been gripped steadily in his hand, before turning around, causing Severus to step back slightly from him. “Don’t do that,” he whispered.

Severus blinked. “Do what?”

“Pretend that you don’t know some vital information when it’s so apparent that you do,” Harry replied, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing in his delectable throat. “If you want to say something, then go ahead and say it. I hate leaving things unsaid.”

Severus leaned back up against the table in the center of the kitchen, choosing his words carefully before he spoke. “Well, suffice it to say I was more than a little surprised how you were able to get an advanced copy of the latest _Wicked Count_ book, nearly two months before it was due to hit shelves...”

Harry shook his head at him, and promptly returned to the truffles, which he sliced up expertly, and added some oil to another pan on the stove. “I told you to be straight with me, Severus, but, apparently, you can’t even do that.”

Severus swallowed; he knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “I’m trying to be, Harry, but I find it is difficult to be so, when you’re clearly not being straight with me either,” he replied.

Harry waited in silence for the oil to heat before he scraped the slices of truffle into it, his intention clear that he wanted to brown them before adding the sauce making Severus’s mouth water on two accounts—one, because he clearly knew what he was doing in the kitchen and two, because of the way he worked so expertly with his hands. “What have I not been straight about with you, Severus?”

Severus blinked, knowing he had to get ahold of himself; Harry was in a committed relationship with Blaise, and even though he might harbor some feelings of mutual love for Severus, he could hardly slam Harry onto the kitchen table and take him right here. There were factors to consider, one being his job, another being Harry’s lack of consent, and a third being that Sirius and Remus were in the next room, and he’d promised Sirius he wouldn’t become involved with Harry in that way until his next birthday. No, he couldn’t allow his fantasies to become reality, not yet; there were too many things weighing on his desires, and Severus knew how to keep a handle on them all, as he had done for years. The desire that Harry had awakened within him was a truly frightening thing, and he knew that there was a little over six months before such a thing would be legal, and he had to continue waiting.

“Nothing,” Severus replied, shaking his head; he knew they couldn’t have this conversation now, although his mind was screaming at him to do so.

Harry sighed, but nevertheless stuck to cooking. “Sirius mentioned that you were coming for dinner because we needed to discuss some things...”

“Yes, I’ve already begun preliminary paperwork for your exit from the care system, and I’ll be standing up in court when called to do so to recommend your adoption, as I’m sure Albus will as well,” Severus informed him as Harry slowly began adding the browned truffles into the cream sauce.

“That’s a relief,” Harry said quietly. He grabbed a bag of tagliatelle pasta by Allemandi and opened it up, putting it into the already-boiling pot of water. “Don’t know what I’d do if there was some kind of stumbling block...”

“Did you always want to be adopted?” Severus asked.

Harry shrugged at the question, although his body remained taut. “I don’t know, really. I think once I hit about twelve or thirteen I thought it wasn’t going to happen,” he answered honestly. “I told Hermione this, and she told me she understood, even though she got adopted as a child.”

“Discouragement when you’re in the system isn’t unheard of,” Severus observed quietly, watching as Harry proceeded to gently stir the pasta in the pot. “I think a great many children in care slowly but surely begin to lose hope, once they reach a certain age. Demographics from within the system are broken, as perceptions based in racism of years past cast a negative light on some children and young adults hoping for an adoptive family.”

“Not so long ago,” Harry said softly, “and it still happens today.” He turned to face Severus then, and Severus fell in love with those beautiful green eyes of his all over again. “Minorities are still considered less-than by many people who perceive themselves to be better, just because of their race, religion, or salaries. It’s bullshit, if you ask me, because there have been people throughout history who have died for the hopes of a better tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you want to study English?” Severus asked before he could stop himself, and found that he immediately regretted it.

“You’ve figured it out, then, haven’t you?” Harry asked with a smirk as he turned back to regard the pasta and the sauce. “You know that I’m Linfred Hardwin.”

“It wasn’t too difficult to connect the dots, eventually, especially once I stumbled upon the unfinished manuscript in your bag at Draco’s house,” Severus said softly.

Harry nodded. “Yes. I thought you’d figured it out then.”

“Not so,” Severus replied. “Took me a few more days, but once Hermione presented me with your very thoughtful gift, did the pieces fully come together.”

Harry nodded, still appearing usure. “Yes. I thought that it would make you understand that I’m under a contractual obligation not to reveal my true identity...”

“Do Sirius and Remus know about it?”

Harry sighed, shoulders slacking ever so slightly as he continued speaking. “They know, yes. I told Ron and Hermione on the day we went to Draco’s property on the sea with Ginny,” he said quietly. “Hermione told me to tell Sirius and Remus when it looked like they were considering adopting me. I heard their whispered conversations about it for weeks, and decided to wait for a good time. I told them right after I got into Le Cordon Bleu. Just seemed like a good time to do so...”

“What was their reaction?”

“They think that Oliver, my agent, might not make good on telling the world that I’m Linfred Hardwin, and will keep Viktor in the limelight for marketing purposes,” Harry told Severus, and the man was surprised that Harry was speaking so candidly.

“Who is this Viktor fellow, anyhow?” Severus asked, his tone peppered with confusion. “I must confess that I, too was among the populace that believed that he was Linfred Hardwin...”

“Other than Oliver, Viktor himself, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, and now you, everyone out there thinks so as well,” Harry told him, as if there were no hard feelings. “Viktor is... Viktor is Oliver’s boyfriend, and he was a model in Bulgaria before it was decided that he would be the face for Linfred Hardwin, until I turned eighteen.”

“How did you even find Oliver?”

“Oliver found me, believe it or not,” Harry said with a small smile. “It was at the Jamaica Wine House, if you can believe it. I had just turned sixteen, and my carers didn’t really care what I was doing as long as I was home by eleven.”

“Negligent, then?”

Harry sighed. “You could say that... There was always food in the house, and I got my pocket money as part of the care agreement, but they never elicited me for conversation or anything like that,” he replied. “I suppose they were too wrapped up in their own lives to worry about the constant reject from numerous homes beforehand.”

“So, you were just in the pub?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, continuing to look over the dinner. “I would go in there every day after school and do my homework, and drink the coffee to stay awake.”

“Didn’t know you liked coffee,” Severus put in.

Harry flushed becomingly, and Severus licked his lips when Harry wasn’t looking. “I don’t like coffee, but once I realized I could stay awake with sugar, I began drinking hot chocolate instead, which, as you know, is my hot beverage of choice.”

“And Hadrian’s,” Severus observed.

Harry flashed Severus a smile. “Correct; couldn’t embellish everything, you know? Anyhow, whenever I’d finish my assignments from whatever school I was in at the time, I would pull out whichever draft of _The Wicked Count and the Lust Royale_ that I was writing at the time, and Oliver popped in one day for his tea. I didn’t pay any attention to him, because I was so busy writing about Hadrian and how he was dealing with his father’s death and coming to terms with being a count... But, he saw me anyway,” Harry said softly.

“Did he approach you?”

“Naturally, as I was the only one with a vacant seat at my table,” Harry replied, continuing to stir the pasta as he talked. “He asked me if I was writing out an essay for English class, or a short story, and I told him that it was neither, that it was a novel.”

“What was his reaction to that?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “At first, he laughed,” he replied, and Severus detected that there was still some resentment there from Oliver’s initial reaction. “But, he could see I was serious, so he snatched up a random page before I could stop him.”

“What was it he read?”

“I tend to write out of order,” Harry confessed, amazed that he was telling Severus this, “and it was Hadrian’s coming out ball, in that he had to accept the title of count.”

“Wherein all the ladies pretty much throw themselves at him?”

“And Hadrian’s afraid,” Harry told him with a nod. “Oliver thought that a homosexual protagonist, as he called it, was ‘so fresh’, and that it had to be explored in depth. When he realized that the story was done, and this was my fifth or sixth draft, he gave me his card and told me to meet with him as soon as possible.”

“And did you?”

Harry nodded. “Of course. It was half-term the following week, so I took the tube to his office in Chelsea and showed him the outlines of all the books, and he approved them. He set me up with an editor after we signed a contract, proclaiming him to be my agent, and then we just went from there.”

“How many books are left?” Severus asked.

Harry smiled slowly. “At this point, there’s four left,” he told him quietly. He continued to stir the pasta in silence, turning the sauce to simmer flawlessly, and bent down and looked into the oven where, much to Severus’s shock, was a whole chicken roasting in a bed of similarly-roasted green beans. “Just hope that it’s everything people want...”

“You know how it ends?”

Harry looked over his shoulder as he smiled at Severus. “Well, of course I know how it ends. I’m the writer, aren’t I?”

Once dinner had finished cooking, Severus and Harry joined Remus and Sirius at the already-set table, and Sirius thanked Severus again for the bottle of wine. Harry looked slightly amazed when he was offered a glass and accepted, albeit only a half glass. Everyone complimented Harry on his cooking that evening, and Severus could understand why the young man had ultimately selected culinary school. There was something in it, he realized, especially if this agent of his, Oliver, went back on his word about Harry’s debut into the world as Linfred Hardwin come July.

Dinner ended beautifully, and Remus and Sirius moved to clear the dishes and mentioned something about a sponge cake for pudding. Severus sat across from Harry at the table, nursing his wine glass, and Harry got up after a moment and wandered to the base of the stairs. The young man let out a whistle, and there was an energetic-sounding bark, whereupon a beautiful red-coated dog burst into the dining room, with Harry painstakingly bending down and gathering it into his arms.

“This is Hedwig,” he said, beaming as he crossed towards Severus. “Say hello.”

Severus hesitated for a moment, but couldn’t deny the beautiful molten black eyes staring back at him, and soon the creature had invited herself onto his lap. “Hello, Hedwig,” he said rather indulgently then, and stroked her behind the ears.

“See?” Harry said brightly. “She likes you!”

Severus sighed, knowing that the only reason that Sirius and Remus had excused themselves was for Severus to discuss with Harry his true purpose of coming for dinner that evening. “Harry, I’m afraid me informing you about me starting the paperwork and subsequent sign-off for your adoption wasn’t my only reason for being here.”

Harry swallowed as he moved to sit back down at the table. “Okay,” he said quietly, sitting in a rather rigid fashion in his seat. “What’s there to talk about?”

Severus absentmindedly continued to stroke at Hedwig’s silken ears, knowing that he would need all the courage the canine could give him. “Many years ago, when I was a much younger man, I was friends with a young woman.”

Harry nodded. “All right?”

“This young woman, even though people encouraged her otherwise, went down a rather tragic path, and even though I was in a position to save her, in the end, I let past experiences with her cloud my judgment, and I refused to do so.”

“Severus...”

“We were childhood friends, this girl and I, and, growing up, things were, at first, perfectly uncomplicated, until I came into my own and realized something about myself, to the point where she was so disgusted that she attempted to change me. But, as I’m sure you well know, changing certain things about oneself is impossible...”

“You mean she didn’t approve of you being gay?” Harry asked.

Severus sighed. “That’s putting it lightly, but yes. She didn’t approve. I don’t know if she learned this prejudice from her family, or on her own, but suffice it to say that many people in the area at the time didn’t approve either.”

“Your family?”

“My father was vehemently against it, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“And your mother?”

“My mother learned subservience quite quickly upon her marriage to my father, which only occurred because she was expecting me; I don’t think she wanted damage done to her, especially when she was pregnant... In later years, I suspected she viewed me as a resentment or hindrance to a life she could have had, were it not for an unexpected pregnancy, and her Catholic family ordering her to marry my father.”

“But this girl,” Harry pressed, wanting to get back to the main narrative. “It doesn’t sound like it started off badly.”

Severus shook his head. “No, it didn’t; in fact, it was a lovely friendship. That was the one piece of my childhood where I actually felt happy,” he mused. “One doesn’t typically consider sexuality when one is very young, and I certainly didn’t. It wasn’t until secondary school that I knew for sure who I really was in that sense, and when I informed her of it, she was angered.”

“Was she?”

Severus nodded at Harry. “Extremely. All she could say was that I had ruined her childhood fantasy, that she had it in her mind that she and I would marry and make better lives for ourselves and away from where we’d grown up.”

“She resented you for being your true self.”

“And for my apparent refusal for loving her in the way she believed she deserved to be loved, in a romantic sense,” Severus replied. “She wouldn’t talk to me for weeks on end, until she finally came to me, happier than I’d seen her in a while.”

“Was she over it?”

“I thought so, and for a while, things got back to normal,” Severus told him. “We would talk as we used to, and I thought that she had finally gotten over her prejudices. However, I was wrong, and things came to a head when she kissed me.”

“She kissed you?” Harry cried out.

Severus nodded. “Yes, quite surprisingly. I won’t deny that it was lovely, but I told her that it couldn’t happen again, as I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She went home in tears that day, and I thought the end of our friendship had come about again. But, after another few weeks, she came back again, and ultimately tried touching me...”

“Severus!” Harry said, shocked.

“Yes. I tried to explain to her yet again that there was nothing she could do to change me, or make me into the man she wanted to marry, and she ran off again,” Severus said quietly. “It was when she returned a third time, this time with a bottle of whiskey, that I thought all had been forgiven, and we were going to celebrate.”

“She wasn’t there to celebrate, was she Severus?” Harry whispered.

“No, Harry, she wasn’t there to celebrate,” Severus told him. “Instead, she kept plying me with more and more shots, laughing as she did so, to the point where my head was pounding, and my vision was spotty at best. I kept telling her that I’d had enough, but she wouldn’t listen to a word I said. Finally, when I was so inebriated that I couldn’t even form words, she began kissing and touching me all over again. I managed to shove her off me and get out of there, and managed to steer clear of her after that. We ended up going to different universities; I graduated with dual degrees in social work and psychology, while she, unfortunately, became pregnant and married the father of her child, much like my mother had.”

“What happened to her?”

“She gave birth to a son,” Severus said softly. “She came to me when she was heavily pregnant and told me she wanted to leave her husband, because he spent all his spare quid at the pub with friends, and she could barely afford to keep herself fed. She became so distraught that her water broke in my flat, and I rushed her to the hospital. She begged me, afterwards, to take both her and her son away, and keep us hidden from her husband. I refused.”

“Severus,” Harry whispered, “what happened to her?”

“She flatlined after my refusal, and I kept watch over the newborn baby in the nursery until the father showed up. Then, I got out of there, knowing he would potentially accuse me of poisoning his infant.”

Harry was staring at the table, his fingers knotting themselves together. “Why are you telling me all this, Severus?”

“Because that woman, my friend growing up, the one who said and did all of those misguided things, the one I regret to this day not offering her a helping hand, was your mother.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up then. “My... My mother?”

“Yes. Lily Evans,” Severus whispered. “I think she could have been a good person, had she gotten the help she needed, and potentially address her faults in a healthy manner...”

“You knew my mother,” Harry said softly.

Severus nodded. “I did know her, Harry. And I am so sorry I didn’t tell you as soon as I made the connection as to who you were.”

“No... No,” Harry said, and slowly got to his feet, upon unsteady legs. “I... I don’t want...” He slowly raised his eyes to Severus’s and shook his head. “We’re finished here.”

“Harry...”

“No, Severus, nothing further,” Harry said firmly.

“Harry, I really think that we should...”

“That’s enough!” Harry shouted, slamming a fist down, hard, upon the surface of the table, which directly caused Hedwig to squeal and jump out of Severus’s lap, and dart towards Harry in a moment of concern. “I don’t want to hear another bloody thing from you,” he said through his teeth, before bending down and scooping up Hedwig, and carrying her out of the dining room, and up the stairs.

“I take it that it didn’t go well?”

Severus ignored Sirius’s question and got to his feet, making his way towards the front door, whereupon he fetched his coat and moved to leave. The thought of sponge cake seemed to leave a sour taste in his mouth and stomach as he walked towards the black iron gate to get to his car. As he got inside and slammed the door, he considered the distraught look in Harry’s eyes, Lily’s eyes, and noticed that he had made the same expression his mother had made when he had refused her help on the day of Harry’s birth, and he felt that now, more than ever, that he had let down not his childhood friend, but the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who noticed, Harry and Severus did not address Harry's apparent relationship with Blaise. Don't worry, that's what we call festering drama. All will come out, don't worry.


	8. Modifiers

It had rained consistently from the moment Oliver had sent Harry his first sales check for _The Wicked Count and the Trials of Fire_. It had been projected to sell out within the first day of its publication, and it had done so in less than six hours. Harry couldn’t bring himself to be pleased about the matter, however, and even in the weeks that followed when he sent Oliver his first draft for _The Wicked Count and the Beloved Sin_ , he just couldn’t get it out of his head that his own mother had been a monster as well, albeit a different kind of one from his father. The most bitter pill to swallow, however, had been the notion that his own mother could have rejected him for just being who he was.

And then there was the matter with Severus, how he couldn’t believe that the man had known his mother while they were young, and the fact that he had kept it from him. All he had known about his mother was that she had died when he was born, and that they had the same eyes. The very eyes that had made his own father incapable of loving him, the words still burned upon his brain. The very fact that Severus, the man he claimed to love, was keeping such tragic information from him had gutted him, and he didn’t know how to respond to it at the time, and so he had resorted to lashing out. Since the adoption was on the books, there had been no more solo meetings with Severus, but it hadn’t stopped the man from attempting to reach out to Harry, and all attempts had been rebuffed.

“Harry.”

Harry turned around then at the sound of Remus’s voice, and forced a smile onto his face; today was the day, and there was no turning back now, not that Harry had any intention of turning back from finding his family fully, and straightened up. “Are they all ready for us in there?” he asked.

Luca Zabini stepped out of the courtroom with a bright smile on his face, and nodded to Harry, before turning towards Sirius and Remus with a flurry of his expensive suit. “We’re up,” he informed them, before turning to regard Harry a second time. “You ready to get adopted and become a permanent member of the Black family, Harry?”

Harry nodded; the Easter holidays had been selected deliberately by Sirius and Remus, as they had deemed it perfect time for Harry’s adoption to take place, and Harry was more ready for it, for he hadn’t even considered being adopted by anyone anymore. “I’m ready,” he said at last, and moved to follow Luca into the courtroom. Harry moved to sit at the table provided with Sirius and Luca, while Remus slipped into the first row, alongside Hermione, Ron, Draco, Ginny, Blaise, Neville, Luna, Sienna, Aideen, Hestia, Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Lee, and Angelina, who were all waiting anxiously for the judge to appear.

The judge on deck that day set to oversee the adoption was said by Luca to be Judge Cornelius Fudge, who was quite a family man in his own right, and reportedly absolutely loved overseeing cases like this. After giving cursory glances around the courtroom, trying to find escape routes if things went south, Harry found himself straightening up automatically from between Sirius and Luca as the door behind the pulpit opened up, and the judge came out in a pair of sweeping black robes, and Harry, as well as the rest of the people in the gallery, got to their feet.

Judge Fudge got to the pulpit promptly, holding some paperwork in his meaty-looking hands, and moved to sit, his powdered wig not an inch out of place. “Be seated,” he said, once he had done so, shuffling his paperwork and facing the court. “Barrister Zabini, I believe you have the opening statement.”

“I do. Thank you, Your Honor,” Luca replied, getting to his feet. “Today, we bear witness to a lovely thing within the care environment, and what I believe it is truly about. Here, we have Harry James Potter, an orphan, who long believed that he himself would not be able to find a family that would suit his needs. And yet, one fateful day, Harry was introduced to Sirius Black, who through love and compassion, taught Harry about familial love, and guided him to a place of healing, to the point when Sirius asked Harry if he would like to be made a permanent part of his family, Harry accepted. Your Honor, I come here today, representing both Mr. Potter and Mr. Black, in the hopes that you will take Harry’s past into consideration, as well as the wonderful strides he has made academically, personally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually since entering the care of Mr. Black. And now, all that remains is your verdict on the subject, one that I sincerely hope will be in my client’s favor. Thank you.”

“Thank you very much, Barrister Zabini,” Judge Fudge replied with a nod as Luca returned to his seat, and the judge scanned the paperwork before him. “I have here statements from Albus Dumbledore, Director of Magical Kinship; Severus Snape, Mr. Potter’s social worker; Headmaster Horace Slughorn, the Head of the City of London School; and then several from Mr. Potter’s close friends, who I believe are here today.” He looked up, and smiled thoughtfully as they all of them waved excitedly from the gallery. “Well, it seems as if you’ve got plenty of people who love you, Mr. Potter,” the judge said, looking at Harry.

Harry smiled back at him. “It’s nice to have their love, sir,” he replied.

“Well, as it appears that Mr. Black has no criminal record to speak of, and all his financials are in order, meaning that he has an ample salary to properly care for Mr. Potter, I’d say that things are well in working order here. Plus, the inspection of 12 Grimmauld Place passed with flying colors, so there is that to consider as well when we come right down to it. While Mr. Potter did perfectly well in school before entering Mr. Black’s care, he has succeeded all expectations and is now in the top-five of his class, and has already been accepted and has selected a university to attend upon the receiving of his A-Levels later this year, which he will begin for the fall term. You should be very proud, Mr. Potter,” Judge Fudge said.

Harry nodded. “I am. Thank you, judge.”

“I see no reason other than to immediately sign off on this endeavor, then,” the judge said and looked down at Harry. “Harry James Potter, would you like to be adopted by Sirius Orion Black today?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“And Sirius Orion Black, would you like to adopt Harry James Potter today?”

Sirius smiled, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I would, Your Honor.”

“Well, then, I suppose we’re all in agreement here,” Judge Fudge said with a nod, and pulled what appeared to be a document towards him, his pen suspended in mid-air. “By the power vested in me, by Her Majesty the Queen, I now enact this adoption,” he said, and signed his name with a flourish. “Barrister Zabini,” he said, motioning for the bailiff to take the document and bring it towards him, “if you would please sign next.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Luca said, immediately straightening up signing his name where it was indicated, beneath _Barrister for the Prospective Family_. “Sirius, your turn now,” he said, and handed over the pen, where Sirius put his name beneath _Adoptive Parent_.

“Harry,” Sirius said, and handed over the pen.

Harry quickly signed his name, his new name, beneath _Adopted Child_.

“And now, for the very first time,” said Judge Fudge, getting to his feet with a smile, “may I present to the court, Sirius Orion Black and his son, Harry James Black?”

“Thank you, judge!” Harry shouted out just as he launched to his feet then and promptly threw himself into Sirius’s arms, feeling safe and secure for the first time ever. “Thanks, Dad,” he whispered to him.

“Don’t mention it, Harry,” Sirius whispered back.

Harry turned around then and shook Luca’s hand, before he darted through the gate towards the gallery and ran to Remus, with a whispered shout of, “Papa!” and embraced him. He went along his row of friends then, and even hugged Molly and Arthur as well. When he came to Blaise, however, he knew that the part still had to be played, so they kissed, unknowing, in that moment, what the consequences would turn out to be.

~*~

After photos were taken and smiles and hugs abound were shared, Harry was unexpectedly forced from the courtroom by Ron, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, and Blaise, who guided him out a back way, and Harry was shocked to find Draco’s car waiting. His questions were left unanswered, and he merely shrugged his shoulders and permitted himself to be led into the vehicle. As they drove, he tried again to ask questions, but his answers were still refused, and he found he had more questions than ever when they pulled up at a beautiful Victorian stone building.

“Um... What’s this?” he asked.

“The club!” Ron exclaimed proudly, and he, Draco, and Blaise promptly hauled Harry out of the car, Hermione and Ginny trailing behind and giggling behind their hands.

They got Harry to the doors of the establishment quickly, which were thrown open, and Harry quickly raised his eyebrows at the sight of Fred, George, Lee, and Angelina, who all stood there happily. “Um... Something I should know about?” he asked, regarding all their faces, one after the other.

“You didn’t tell him?” Angelina demanded, glaring daggers at Ron.

“That’s our fault, love,” George assured her, kissing her on the cheek.

“Thought it would be better as a surprise, did you?” Lee asked.

Fred threw up his hands. “You’ve caught us.”

“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Harry said, raising his voice, as his patience was slowly but surely ebbing away from him quite quickly.

“Right, right, sorry,” Ron said as Harry was ushered into the imposing-looking building. “We still need to get it ready, but tonight, the club is ours.”

Harry turned and looked at the twins. “Ours?” he asked, looking around. “Could someone please explain to me why the club would possibly be ours tonight?” he asked firmly.

“It’s to celebrate your adoption,” Angelina replied brightly, and Harry firmly decided that he liked the young woman very much, due to her positive attitude about everything.

“We still need to clean it up some from last night, but it shouldn’t take too long,” Lee put in with an engaging smile. “Mostly, we need to haul out the rubbish and clear the tables, to make room for dancing, as it’ll be a younger crowd here tonight.”

“Hired the best DJ we could get, too,” Fred told Harry, and it was apparent to Harry that he was quite excited about this particular nugget of information.

“Calls himself ‘the Bloody Baron’, even though he preaches non-violence whenever he’s got a significant event like this,” George explained, as excited as his twin. “Plays all the classic rock and popular music. Hope that’s all right.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that’s all right.”

“We’ve also got our top chef cooking in the back for your big night, and our bartender should be along in good time,” Angelina told Harry, leading Harry to believe that Angelina had some kind of role in the club as well, other than the girlfriend of one of the owners. “Now, all that remains is clearing this place up, and we’ve got a party.”

“We’ve brought clothes for tonight as well,” Draco told Harry with a conspiratory-esque grin. “They’re in the boot of my car, which we’ll be collecting shortly.”

“And never you mind about payment, Harry,” Fred told him.

“Sirius and Remus approached us a few weeks back, just after you’d told them that you were going to be adopted, and asked us to let you have the club for the night. Of course, we jumped at the opportunity, as the deposit was above and beyond what we expected,” Lee said brightly, and was promptly nudged by Fred.

“Anyhow,” said George, as Angelina rolled her eyes, “they asked us to make sure that you all had a good time tonight, and we told him we were on it.”

Angelina leaned closer to George’s side. “The invitations went out three weeks ago, and anyone who’s anyone is going to be here,” she told the teenagers. “Positively everyone that we invited accepted, although there will be chaperones.”

“Chaperones?” Harry asked.

“Yes, volunteers who will be watching the festivities, alongside us, of course, as we wouldn’t want any lawsuits,” Fred informed the group in a steady tone. “We’ll let you leave it up to your imaginations, because the party begins at eight, and we’ve less than five hours to get the place ready.”

“Ginny and I will go and get our clothes for tonight out of the boot,” Draco volunteered, and Ginny flushed becomingly at the comment, and nestled closer to him.

“I’ll come with,” Angelina said, kissing George on the cheek before stepping forward. “I can tell you where to pop everything until it’s time to change.”

“Great,” Ginny said, reaching out and taking Angelina by the hand and pulling her outside with Draco, and the girls immediately began chatting with one another.

“Now that all my childhood secrets are likely to get spilled in the next few moments,,” George said, while Fred and Lee began nudging each other and laughing, “let’s decide who should take what job.”

Ultimately, Harry, Ron, Blaise, and Draco were assigned to trash duty, while Hermione and Ginny would take wiping down the various tables, the bar, and making sure that all the chairs were in working order. Luna and Neville arrived shortly thereafter, with Neville helping the rest of the boys with trash duty, and Luna getting to work on some dusting about the place. While all this was going on, Angelina had brought up all their outfits to be kept in the wardrobe in one of the offices, while she answered phone calls and emails, Lee went over the budget for the evening ahead, and Fred and George called to check in with the DJ and the various chaperones that had volunteered to supervise alongside them.

Harry didn’t mind the work; in fact, it meant that conversations were essentially off-limits for, according to Ron, Fred and George took the upkeep of the club very seriously, and would leave no stone left unturned. As Harry worked, he mulled over the past several weeks of his time at school, and the rather befuddled gazes that Cormac bestowed upon Blaise, and the subsequent glares he’d given Harry. Harry had found it perfectly amusing, while Blaise had begun to grow worried that their little charade was working too well.

“All right there, Blaise?” Harry asked, taking a moment to stretch his fingers.

Blaise shrugged, popping his spine before returning to work, bending over to retrieve a bundle of trash in an alcove. “Do we know who RSVP’d to this thing tonight?” he asked.

Ron, on Harry’s other side, chewed his lower lip as he swept out some cobwebs from a particularly dark corner nearby. “I may have seen it on the twins’ desk...”

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, Ron,” Harry said.

“All the guys from our class are coming, and a few from Ginny, Hermione, and Luna’s school have declared that they’ll be here tonight as well,” Ron confirmed.

Blaise sighed, looking around; Draco was tidying up the bannister of the staircase; Hermione and Ginny were polishing the bar; Luna was dusting around the front door; and Neville was sweeping on the other side of the room. “We have to tell him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Tell me what?” Ron asked.

Harry sighed and, at Blaise’s nod, turned to look at Ron. “Blaise and I aren’t really together,” he said softly to him.

Ron blinked. “What? Did you break it off or something?”

“You can’t break it off if you were never with someone in the first place,” Blaise told Ron in that patient tone of his, smiling nervously at their friend.

“Hey, I don’t hear work down there, I hear chit-chat!” bellowed Fred, leaning over the ledge upon the top floor.

“The faster you work, the more quickly the party’ll come!” called George.

“Freddy, someone’s on the phone for you!” yelled Lee from the office.

“Hey, leave them alone,” Angelina reprimanded George as she stepped forward, putting a hand on his arm. “I’ve finished up my phone calls. Fancy some alone time?”

“Yes, please,” George said, and eagerly followed her into his own office.

Harry sighed, not wanting to table their discussion in the middle of it, but also knowing that the three of them needed to work to get the place in order before the party. He was quite positive that many other people their age would’ve balked at the prospect of cleaning some place before partying there, but Harry certainly didn’t mind. It kept his eye off a certain pair of onyx eyes which had haunted his thoughts to no end since that bitter cold day in January, when he had last been alone with Severus Snape.

Pushing his mind back into the assigned task at hand, Harry was unaware of time passing, due to his focus, so when it came time to change, he suddenly realized how he might look. Much to his surprise, Fred and George led them all to a locker room, where there was a wall in between, so as everyone could shower without being uncomfortable. Relieved, Harry chose a shower at random, while the twins informed everyone that Angelina would be leaving their outfits in the changing room beyond.

After making himself as presentable as he could, Harry fell in line with the rest of the boys and quickly found the outfit, as all the other boys seemed to know what it was they were wearing. It came as a shock to Harry when he eyeballed his own outfit, as it was a new one; it was a lovely dark purple suit, with matching tie, and patent leather dress shoes. Touched, he found a card attached to it and, when he opened it up, tears appeared in his eyes.

_Welcome to the family. Have fun tonight. We love you. – S. & R._

Harry hastily brushed his tears away and dressed himself, marveling at the notion that the suit was in his exact size. Everyone in the locker room complimented Harry, and he blushed becomingly. Draco tossed him a spare comb, and Harry used it quickly, although he couldn’t manage to tame any of his raven hair at all. It suited him, he realized that now, because it was as imperfect as he was, and had always been.

As he patted the pockets, he was surprised by the feeling that there was something a bit bulky in one of them and, when he pulled it out, noticed that they were beautiful golden cufflinks, with the initials _H.J.B._ upon them, and he felt his face lighting up automatically upon reading them. Draco promptly stepped forward and took his comb back, and easily helped Harry with situating them in their proper place. Then he was led by the rest of them out of the locker room, and they all of them met up with Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, before they all slipped down the staircase.

More time had gone by while they’d been changing than Harry had imagined, because there were disco balls and lights beaming off of every surface of the club. The tables and chairs had been moved, and everyone who stood below was dancing. The Bloody Baron, the hired DJ, was playing some pop song that Harry didn’t recognize, but it had a pleasing beat to it. However, he was made to stand at the top of the stairs while the rest of them went down, and everyone was called to look up at him, and there was an almighty cheer, before there were scattered shouts of, “Congratulations!” and everyone seemed quite pleased to be there.

Finally, albeit blushing like mad, Harry was given the signal to come down the stairs, and he hugged or shook hands with pretty much anyone who wanted to. Naturally, he gave out more handshakes, because, other than his own group of friends, he really didn’t know anyone else, but they all seemed like very nice people. Finally, Hermione handed him a red plastic cup of champagne and went to dance with Ginny, the girls giggling to themselves about how much they supposedly loved the song playing. Luna and Neville were dancing already, while Draco was watching Ginny with a look of pure love on his face. It was then that Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around then, seeing that Ron had hauled Blaise over, and clearly wanted to continue their conversation.

“Wait,” Ron said, looking back and forth between them and shaking his head. “Wait just a minute here. I don’t get it. I mean, for the past several months that we’ve known about this, you’ve been holding hands, sharing secrets, snogging... You even laugh at each other’s jokes, even the ones that aren’t funny!”

“Told you that was a thing,” Blaise whispered to Harry.

“That was the point, Ron,” Harry explained, sipping at his drink. “Blaise and I wanted everyone to think that we were a couple, so that people wouldn’t know who I was into...”

“And so I could make Cormac McLaggen jealous,” Blaise finished, shoulders deflating as he rolled on the balls of his feet. “I don’t think it was working out very well...”

“Why?” Ron asked, slightly coming to his senses about the whole thing.

“Because he doesn’t seem to care one way or another who I’m with,” Blaise said, slouching against the wall behind him, looking utterly defeated that his plan hadn’t appeared to have worked.

“You’re wrong, you know.”

Harry and Ron’s jaws subsequently dropped, and it took a moment for Blaise to finally catch on to their expressions, whereupon he turned around.

“Cormac,” Blaise whispered.

“So, you two,” Cormac said, pointing in between Harry and Blaise slowly. “You two were never a couple?”

Harry promptly shook his head. “No.”

“Not at all,” Blaise confirmed.

Cormac turned back to Blaise then, looking him over. “So this, all of this, with the two of you practically throwing yourselves at each other in public... It was all to get me?”

“Of course it was,” Blaise said, obviously trying to stay calm, although he was close to hyperventilating. “I’ve fancied you since Year Nine, and I just couldn’t take it anymore...”

Cormac smiled slowly then, as if he was a cat who had eaten the canary. “It was Year Ten for me, Blaise, only because I didn’t know I was gay until then,” he told him softly. “You came back from spending the summer in Italy...”

“Yeah,” Blaise said, remembering, flushing slightly. “Puberty hit me like a ton of bricks. Plus a lot of my cousins were showing me how to work out...”

“I remember,” Cormac said, nodding in approval. “That’s also when you joined the school’s football team.”

“Only to be closer to you,” Blaise said quickly. “I could care less about football. Playing it, I mean. I prefer to watch.”

“Shame,” Cormac said with a laugh. “You’re a great player.”

“It’s not for me,” Blaise said softly. “I got into Birmingham and I’m going to be a pediatric physician, ultimately.”

Cormac smiled even wider at the information Blaise had given to him. “Pediatric oncologist,” he said then, and Blaise gasped aloud at his career aspirations. “So, it was really all a joke?”

“All a joke,” Harry confirmed putting up his hands.

Cormac turned to Harry and instead put out his hand. “Thank you,” he said, and Harry, although shocked, reached out and shook his hand. “Thank you for making me realize how short life is, and, if you want something this badly, you’ll just go for it.” He smiled at Harry before releasing his hand, and turned back to Blaise. “Blaise Luca Zabini, would you do me the honor of dancing with me, with the mutual thinking that this’ll be our first date?”

Blaise’s face broke out in an unexpected grin then. “I’d love to,” he replied, and reached towards Cormac’s hand.

“Wait, there’s just one thing more,” Cormac said, much to Blaise’s confusion. However, Cormac stepped forward then and drew Blaise into his arms, snogging him for all he was worth, and Harry grinned at the exchange, while Ron guffawed at the notion that he and Blaise had literally deceived them all. Cormac pulled back then and, grinning down at an equally enthusiastic Blaise, pulled him into the dancing crowd, and all seemed well.

“Well, you got me,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. “Who else knew?”

“That it was a farce?” Harry asked, sipping his drink delicately.

Ron nodded. “Yeah.”

“Hermione picked it up right away,” Harry told him, and Ron sighed.

“I should’ve known,” he said, shaking his head.

“Guess everyone will figure it out soon enough,” Harry said quietly.

“There’s some merit in what Cormac said, you know,” Ron put in, and Harry turned and stared at him for a moment.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, he said that if you want something so badly, you should just go for it,” Ron told him, and Harry shook his head.

“Not completely following...”

“You and Severus, of course,” Ron said.

Harry sighed and shook his head. “That ship has sailed, Ron.”

“Why? You still love him, don’t you?”

“Of course I still love him, Ron,” Harry said, shaking his head again and setting his drink down on the bar behind him. “Doesn’t matter much now, though, does it?”

“Why not?”

Harry nipped at his bottom lip. “You know as well as I do that I screamed at him last time we were in the same room together,” he whispered.

“So bloody what?” Ron said, throwing his hands up in the air, growing impatient with him. “I set this whole thing up so the two of you could be together!”

Harry’s eyes snapped to Ron then, who immediately clamped his hands down on his mouth. “I’ll give you five seconds to explain yourself, Ron,” he said softly.

Ron sighed, exasperation quickly evaporating, before he lowered his hands and nodded towards the upper level, where the chaperones were supposedly cloaked in the shadows. “Look.”

Harry followed Ron’s gaze upwards, and could distinctly see Severus himself standing within those shadows, his eyes locking immediately onto Harry’s. “Ron,” he whispered, “what have you done?”

“Why don’t you go up there and find out?” he asked, shoving Harry towards the staircase and Harry, although reluctant, followed his best mate’s orders.

Harry approached Severus quickly, so much so that he was almost immediately surrounded by the shadows, and hesitated, before finally forcing himself to speak. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Severus replied.

Harry sighed. “Supervising again?” he asked.

Severus shook his head at him. “No. I came here for you.”

Harry blinked, and shook his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, as it always seemed to do whenever Severus was in close proximity to him. “I was horrible last time we saw each other, Severus. I’m surprised that you’d even...”

“You had every right to react the way you did, Harry,” Severus said quickly.

“No, I really didn’t,” Harry said, stepping closer still, heart hammering in his chest. “My mother was horrible to you, and I am so sorry that she couldn’t see it.”

“It was the way she was brought up...”

“Don’t. Don’t go and make excuses for her, Severus,” Harry told him, tears threatening to escape from his eyes again. “She was wrong, and you need to accept that. She hurt someone I care very deeply for, and I won’t stand for it. If she were here, I’d probably be in care anyway, because she would’ve rejected me for falling for you in the first place.”

“So, it’s true then?” Severus asked, stepping closer and tentatively reaching for Harry’s hand in the darkness, and running the pad of his thumb along his knuckles. “You’re in love with me?”

Harry nodded, practically shaking at the sensation of Severus holding his hand. “Yeah, I...” He sighed. “You’ve got a pretty good view from up here. I take it you saw the show?” he asked.

Severus nodded. “Yes, and I managed to glean some of what was being said.” He hesitated for a moment and smiled. “You did all that to help out a friend of yours?”

“And to hide the fact that we’d spent the night together,” Harry told him quietly. “The last thing I’d want is for your entire career to be ruined on my account.”

“I’ve followed my head from the moment I decided to be a social worker upon receiving my A-Levels, Harry,” Severus said quietly. “I haven’t followed my heart for the last two decades. Now, however, I find myself wanting something far more than merely continuing my rather mundane existence until I retire at a suitable age.”

“Which is?” Harry whispered; although he had a decent enough idea of what Severus’s meaning was, he found that he really needed to hear it for himself.

“I want you, Harry,” Severus whispered, finally closing the distance between them. “I find myself wanting you as anyone would want another person that they’re deeply in love with, it distracts them from living the life they had before.”

“You... You love me?” Harry whispered, his voice shaking.

“I love you tremendously,” Severus replied, reaching up to cup Harry’s cheeks, and subsequently dissipate the trail of tears flowing there by swiping at them with his thumbs. “I’ve never been in love in my entire life, Harry; I’ve had attractions, but they were fleeting and inconsequential compared what I feel for you. I often imagined Linfred Hardwin in his private life, separated from Viktor Krum’s image, and found that I was not completely satisfied with it. I found myself dreaming that he was quite like Hadrian Peverell, and that, one day, I would find my own count...”

Harry chuckled. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Severus replied. “Did you base Hadrian on yourself?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“Fascinating,” Severus whispered.

“You’re him, you know,” Harry whispered. “You’re Sebastian Prince. When I had to conjure up what an ideal man for Hadrian would be, I immediately thought of you, due to your selflessness, that night I met you when I was ten-years-old. Even in my trauma, through it all, there was something that told me that I would not be harmed by you...”

“What made you think that, Harry?”

“Other than the fact that I know you now, because you never reached out and attempted to touch me to comfort me. You used your words. Your words, spoken in that rich, velvet voice of yours, that I would often think of whenever I was alone, as I grew older, and grow hard whenever I heard it, thus confirming that I, too, was gay. And so making Hadrian gay was a no brainer, and giving him a love in Sebastian Prince...” He shrugged. “It was fate.”

“And now?” Severus asked.

“And now, you’re not my social worker anymore,” Harry said, and stepped forward completely then, and promptly pressed his mouth to Severus’s, begging him to open up.

“Harry, we can’t,” Severus said brokenly, feeling utterly wretched, and pulled away from him, yanking his arms backwards as if Harry had burned him.

“What? No, please,” Harry whispered, suddenly becoming blinded by tears at the prospect of losing the one man he had ever wanted throughout his entire life. “The age of consent here is sixteen, Severus. _Six_ teen. I’m seventeen, if you recall correctly, and you’re no longer my social worker...”

“I am still quite a bit older than you, Harry,” Severus said gently.

“I don’t care about the age difference,” Harry whispered, struggling to keep his voice down. “I want this. I want you.”

Severus stiffened and shut his eyes. “You’ve no idea what it means to hear you say that, my Harry. But, the fact remains that we must keep our hands to ourselves until you reach your eighteenth birthday. Then, and only then, if we both wish it, will it be perfectly legal and sound for us to do whatever we wish.” He slowly opened his eyes, and stiffened once again in despair. “Please, please don’t look at me that way, Harry.”

“Like what?” he whispered. “Like my heart is breaking, Severus? Because it is. You’ve broken my heart...”

“Harry, I did not say that I didn’t want you,” Severus said, obviously trying to stay strong, despite himself. “I will never not want you, for as long as I live and breathe...”

“Then have me. Have me, Severus,” Harry whispered, approaching him again and putting his arms around him. “I’m yours. I’ve been yours from the moment I looked at you in Dumbledore’s office last September.”

Severus sighed, pressing a light kiss onto Harry’s forehead. “You’ve got to understand all the consequences here, love,” he whispered against his hair. “Were we to succumb, I would surely lose my job and end up where Pettigrew is now.”

“You are nothing like him!” Harry said, pulling back and gazing at Severus. “Nothing. Do you hear me?!”

Severus shook his head. “Unfortunately, in the eyes of the law, it would be seen as one in the same, I fear. Not to mention the word I gave to Sirius...”

“Sirius?!” Harry demanded. “What’s he got to do with anything?!”

“I made a promise to Sirius that I wouldn’t do anything with you until you reached your next birthday, after he told me how you felt for me, on the condition that we both wanted it...”

“He told you?!” Harry squeaked, drawing back. “Sirius knows?!”

Severus nodded at him. “Yes. I would have thought you suspected, given that he invited me over for dinner that night.”

Harry broke away from Severus then. “So, this is it? That’s your decision?”

Severus sighed. “I am afraid so. I will not claim you fully until your birthday.” He hesitated for just a moment, knowing that he had to explain to Harry that they just had to wait, just a bit longer. “You’ve got to understand that I want very much to proclaim you as mine to the world, Harry, but what you’ve got to realize is... Harry, where are you going? Harry?”

Harry turned around then, not wanting to hear any more, as he darted away from Severus and down the hallway. He thought he remembered seeing another exit somewhere, and felt a rush of relief when he found it at the end of the corridor. He opened the door and darted through, seeing that it led to a series of metal staircases, which he took two at a time, until he ended up in a rain-soaked alley. As he ran, he could hear the metal squeaking behind him, and, as his heart pounded in his chest, he could hear something else, something far more meaningful.

“Harry!” came the shout.

But Harry kept running until he reached the edge of the alley, so much so that he nearly was run over by a car screeching by and would have been, were it not for a pair of strong arms coming unexpectedly around him, which immediately dragged him backwards, and slammed him up against the rain-slicked side of the building. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, trying and failing to get the muddy water off his pants.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Severus growled, glaring down at him. Rain had slicked his hair rather quickly, and droplets were forming upon the ends. “Do you realize how dangerous that was, Harry? You could’ve been killed!”

“Like you care,” Harry muttered.

“Harry, I love you,” Severus whispered. “You know very well how much I care.”

Harry locked eyes with Severus then. “Please,” he whispered. “Please show me how much you care,” he begged. At the hesitation from the man he loved, he kept going, “No one has to know, it’s just that I need you, and I love you, too...”

Severus looked like he was weighing his options then, before he muttered, “Fuck,” and dragged Harry’s jaw upwards, so that their lips met in the rain. He didn’t hesitate, not for a moment, as he proceeded pulling at Harry’s suit pants, and Harry, once Severus had what he needed, reached out and yanked at his fly, pulling it down and wrapping his legs around Severus’s waist, letting out a keening sound as Severus sucked on his own fingers for a moment, before slowly allowing them to enter Harry.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, his voice a needy whine, as he clunked his head slightly on the building behind him, feeling himself reaching for Severus. “Oh, fuck... Please.”

“Like this?” Severus whispered, reaching in further with his fingertips, and pressing his lips back to Harry’s in the wake of the teen letting out a high-pitched groan. “Tell me what you want, love,” he went on, grinding his own erection into Harry’s leg. “Tell me what you want me to do...”

“Get inside me,” Harry whispered around the kisses. “Please. I need you inside me, Severus,” he kept on begging as a second finger joined the first. “Fucking god...”

“Yes, like that,” Severus encouraged. “Gentle or hard?”

“Hard. Fuck me hard,” Harry said softly. “I want you to fuck me right up against this building, and whisper all your sordid thoughts into my ear...”

“Absolutely,” Severus replied, who had, by this time, moved onto a third finger, and was about to turn Harry around, before Harry stopped him.

“Pettigrew would always...” He sighed, trying to get his head straight; he wouldn’t allow himself to associate with the bad memories of his past, to allow them to taint his first time with Severus. “Please, I need to see you, Severus. I need you to fuck me like this. I want to see you, I need to see you...”

Severus leaned down then and brushed Harry’s lips with his own, before gently trailing his tongue along his young lover’s tender ear lobe, which caused Harry directly to whine. “Of course, love,” he said, before he took ahold of one of Harry’s hands, licking the palm significantly, and then dragging it slowly along his hard member. “Prepare me, love,” he whispered.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Harry hissed through his teeth. “I love how big you are...”

“Good,” Severus whispered back, before he slowly removed Harry’s hand from his shaft and gently eased the head towards Harry’s stretched opening. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck, yes, I’m ready. Please, please,” Harry said, trying not to squeal as the head of the massive organ gently teased at his hole, letting out a mewl as Severus dragged it along the tight furl. “Please, now, now, now...”

Severus sighed, nodding, and slowly eased himself inside, and, as he expected, Harry stiffened around him, and he gently rubbed his sides, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re doing so well, love,” he whispered reassuringly. “Just push against me. Yes, that’s right,” he said as Harry obeyed him, grunting slightly as he took all of him. “All right?”

“Just... Just give me a minute, will you?”

“Anything you need,” Severus told him.

Harry worked on his breathing then, attempting to become used to Severus inside him. It was everything he ever wanted and more, having the man of his dreams love him back. However, he knew that it would be several weeks before they could reveal their relationship, but, he was prepared to wait, if it meant forever with Severus, which is exactly what he wanted.

“Now,” he whispered after a moment or two. “I’m ready now.”

“All right, love,” Severus said, moving his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm, and smiling to himself as Harry arched up against him, mewling in response to his movements. “Do you like that, my love?” he whispered.

“Please, please... More, I need more,” Harry begged, placing his palms upon Severus’s shoulders, and moving himself up and down on Severus’s erection. “Faster, faster!”

“Anything,” Severus told him, knowing he would give in to whatever his lover wanted, and moved faster, letting Harry’s wails match the thunder and lightning as it boomed around them.

“I wanted this for so long,” Harry sobbed.

“As did I,” Severus confirmed.

“Tell me,” Harry whispered to him.

“When I saw you that day in Albus’s office,” Severus said, somehow managing to form a coherent thought, despite being buried deep inside Harry, “all I could think about was how beautiful you were, and how much I wished that you were a new recruit for the company, because then I could’ve asked you out...”

“Severus...”

“...made you mine.”

“Yours,” Harry whispered, leaning down and sucking deftly at Severus’s exposed neck, causing the older man to moan in his ear. “I’m yours. Always yours, Severus. Do you hear me? Always and forever, because that’s what I want with you...”

“Oh, Harry,” Severus groaned. “My Harry...”

“Yes, my Severus, I’m yours,” Harry confirmed, as Severus slammed into Harry’s prostate over and over again, causing the road to his orgasm to begin. “Oh, god...”

“Yes, my love, feel it,” Severus whispered. “Feel my love for you...”

“Tell me...”

“I want this forever,” Severus whispered, and Harry gasped in a combination of pleasure and happiness at Severus’s words. “I’ll never have enough of you to do this just once...”

“I’m yours,” Harry promised. “Yours, yours, yours...”

“Mine,” Severus whispered, nipping at his collar bone. “My Harry...”

“I love you,” Harry whispered. “Severus...”

“Yes?”

“Need to... Need to come...”

“Come for me, Harry,” Severus said, pushing in harder still. “I’m close.”

“Fucking hell, marry me!” Harry shouted, sobbing with ecstasy as he came between them, letting out a harsh shout at the impact of it all, his body growing limp.

Severus let out his own wail then as he spilled inside of Harry, and Harry let out a soft sigh, his legs giving around from around the older man’s middle as they clung to each other. “Harry,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to find Harry’s lips in the darkness that surrounded the two of them. “My Harry...”

“Oh, Severus,” Harry whispered back, his voice a slight croak. They were wet, and there was a cool wind which passed through the alleyway as the rain kept falling around them. However, in that moment, Harry was safe and warm in Severus’s arms.

Safe. Warm. And loved.


	9. Past Participle

Severus awoke the following morning, and came to the conclusion that he had returned to his flat at some point during the night. The rainstorm must’ve taken precedence over anything else, and it must’ve flooded his mind to the point where he couldn’t recollect anything readily. That soon changed, however, when he opened his eyes and realized that there was a smaller body curled into his arms, just like it had been on the first of November. This time, however, nobody was knocking on the door to awaken them, and this particular body was naked.

“Mmm... Severus,” came Harry’s whisper as Severus inadvertently pulled away from him, and that pair of startlingly beautiful green eyes locked onto his as Harry’s eyes fluttered for a moment and came open completely. “Morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning, Harry,” Severus replied.

Harry bit at his bottom lip, and slowly raised himself upwards so that his and Severus’s faces were level. “You...”

“What?”

Harry tentatively reached toward Severus. “You don’t regret what we did last night, do you?” he whispered, looking fearful that, above all things, he would be rejected again.

Severus sighed. “I regret that there is a law in place that should make me feel remorseful about what we did last night,” he replied, and felt his heartbeat thrumming when Harry raised his eyes to his. “However, I myself do not regret one thing about my night with you. I meant what I said last night, Harry. I love you.”

Harry blinked then, tears entering his eyes at Severus’s words. “Thank god, because I love you, too,” Harry replied, launching himself without ceremony into Severus’s waiting arms, and kissed him with as much fervor as he had done last night. He pulled onto Severus, so that the older man was now on top of him, and whispered, “Make love to me.”

“Again, Harry? We made love in the alley way, then again up against the inside of my front door, once when we got to the bed, and a fourth time when we woke up in the night. You’re sure you’re not too sore?”

“I’ve been waiting for you my entire life, Severus,” Harry said, winding his arms around Severus’s neck and pulling him closer. “I love you, and I want us to make love again. Who knows how often we’ll be able to do it?”

“Touché,” Severus replied, leaning down and capturing Harry’s lips with his. It did not, however, assuage his guilt completely, and a significant part of him hated himself for giving into his baser desires and not controlling himself the evening before. He hated, hated that the notion of Harry’s death by that oncoming car had pushed him over the edge to claim Harry completely, and knew full well that the consequences, when they came knocking, would be unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, for he had never found himself in a situation quite like this one.

“You’re thinking.”

“Hmmm?” Severus asked, permitting his head to rise so that Harry could pepper his jawline with kisses. “Sorry?”

“Get out of that beautiful head of yours for two minutes and look at me,” Harry implored him, and Severus found he was in no position to deny him, so he listened, lowering his eyes to that of the beautiful young man in his bed. “I. Am. Fine,” Harry told him, pressing his lips to various aspects of his face.

Severus sighed, and made to pull away from him, the guilt proceeding to eat away at him. “I know you may believe that, Harry, but the fact of the matter is...”

“The fact of the matter is,” Harry interrupted and, gaining leverage, pinned Severus to the bed and stared down at him, with a hungry expression on his face, “I don’t want you to worry about a thing. Nobody has to know about this.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that nobody has to know that control was lost on either end,” Harry told him, his voice gentle as he pressed a firm kiss onto Severus’s lips. “I know that a lot of people will take one look at our situation and think that I was manipulative towards you, due to my behavior last night...”

“You were no such thing,” Severus said, cutting across him and wrapping his arms around Harry’s slim waist, causing the teenager to sigh as his hands caressed his skin. “You were scared.”

Harry worried his lower lip. “Maybe,” he whispered. “I know that me being a victim of sexual abuse means that, once I find something, or someone, that I love beyond all reason, I’ll do whatever I can to hold onto that person or thing, because I’m afraid of it slipping through my fingers when I’m not paying attention...”

“I’m quite positive that others will say that I was stupid, and thoughtless, for taking advantage of you,” Severus said, and shut his eyes on a wave of revulsion. “I should’ve known better, Harry. I mean, your birthday is nearly sixteen weeks away. I could’ve held on, and have been happy with kisses and words and conversations until then, but I didn’t. I realized that my love for you knows no bounds, and I simply couldn’t hold back any longer, when your death was literally staring at me in the face...”

“Hey, hey,” Harry said, gently rubbing his thumbs into Severus’s pronounced cheekbones, and waited for the man to open his eyes. “I don’t want you regretting a thing. Do you hear me, Severus Tobias Snape?”

Severus sighed. “Harry...”

“No,” Harry said his voice firm, as he gently pressed his forehead against Severus’s. “I want you to stop thinking and just listen to me right now. Are you hearing me?”

Severus sighed. “You’ve got my attention, Harry.”

“Good,” he said, before continuing, “I had a terrible thing happen to me when I was a child, and even though that happened to me, it doesn’t mean I didn’t want what happened last night not to happen, or that I regret it in any way from my standpoint. The only thing I regret is the fact that the law isn’t on our side,” he said quietly. “The law, in this situation, is wrong, because they will paint you in the same light as Pettigrew, and that thought disgusts me beyond all reason. You could lose your job, your livelihood, for loving me, and expressing that love in a way that we both consented to.”

“Harry, you know as well as I do that the law says, and everyone else will believe, that I pressured you into getting this close, and that you were in no place to...”

“No place to what?” Harry demanded, backing up so that he was on his haunches atop Severus, his green eyes flashing with momentary anger at the thought of other people sticking their noses where he thought they didn’t belong. “No place to what, Severus? They will really think that I was in no place to consent?”

Severus sighed, and nodded at Harry. “Yes. They will believe that, based on your age, and your past experiences with Pettigrew, that you automatically...”

“Automatically have no voice in this situation, you mean?” Harry threw himself off of Severus in one smooth motion and immediately proceeded to pace the man’s bedroom. “I am sick and tired of the law stepping in and thinking that they’ll automatically know best about me, just because I had a hellish childhood. I don’t care who they are, or how high up on the ladder they claim to be, or if they have dozens of degrees to their name! I’m not some fucking statistic,” he went on, his voice shaking with a sudden wave of emotion, as he turned back to Severus. “I’m not.”

Severus pushed the duvet back and got up, crossing the room and gently running the palms of his hands up and down Harry’s arms in an effort to soothe him. “I know you’re not.”

“A part of me is broken because of what Pettigrew did to me, there’s no question about that,” Harry said softly then, and pressed his forehead into Severus’s chest, feeling secure in the arms of the man he loved. “However, I personally think that James is more to blame here than Pettigrew.”

Severus blinked, gently easing Harry backwards so that he could meet his eyes. “What do you mean by that, love?”

“James stood by and let it happen,” Harry whispered, hunching his shoulders.

Severus stiffened. “Harry, what are you telling me?”

“James would sometimes walk by,” he whispered, “and Pettigrew would leave the door to the room open, because he knew that James wouldn’t stop him.”

Severus teeth clenched automatically then. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Harry laughed bitterly and shook his head at his lover. “I wish I was,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But, none of it matters now, at the end of things, because James is dead, and Pettigrew is rotting in prison where he belongs.” He sighed, and traced the planes of Severus’s muscled chest. “I meant what I said you know.”

“What?”

Harry looked up then, locking eyes with Severus. “I do love you,” he whispered. “I’ll never stop loving you. And when I’m eighteen, nobody can stop us from being together.”

Severus smiled down at Harry. “If you still want me by the end of July, I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he said quietly. “But... I’m afraid we’ll have to put a stop to our bedroom exploits until then, Harry.”

“But...”

“Please, listen to me,” Severus said, gently pressing his index finger to Harry’s lips. “No matter how much we claimed to have enjoyed last night, we cannot allow it to happen again until you turn eighteen. There is too much at risk. And, no, I do not just mean my job,” he said, knowing full well where Harry’s thoughts would lead, given that he was still unused to people caring for him. “I don’t want to have to put you through the wringer in public, my Harry. You would be called to testify, surely, and I won’t have our momentary lapse of judgement put on for all to see. I won’t.”

Harry sighed. “It wasn’t, though, was it?”

“Maybe irrationally it wasn’t,” Severus allowed, “but rationally speaking, it was a very serious offense, and I would not wish to hurt you any longer.”

Harry sighed, knowing when he was beaten. “Fine. I won’t attempt to seduce you any longer.” He swallowed. “Although I do have a request, for my birthday.”

Severus chuckled. “Anything.”

“I want to be on top,” he said, and grinned up at him.

“Perhaps something can be arranged,” Severus allowed.

“Don’t forget about me,” Harry whispered.

Severus immediately shook his head, and pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead, cuddling him close for one final moment. “Never,” he whispered back to him.

Severus then managed to shoo Harry into taking a shower, after he had, of course, and then, while Harry was freshening up, Severus left the flat. He put a note on his bedside table, letting Harry know that he would be back shortly. It was the day before Easter, so he figured that the shops—the ones which sold sweets, anyway—would be mobbed by working parents, attempting to get some kind of decent confectionery for their children the day before. He slipped through the crowds on the streets towards Asprey, which just so happened to be a fine jewelry store not too far away from his flat.

“Good morning,” greeted the saleslady as he stepped inside, and he greeted her with a polite smile. “Anything you need help finding today, sir?” she inquired; she had long raven hair and engaging dark eyes.

“A ring,” Severus replied. “An engagement ring.”

“Oh, yes, of course, sir,” the woman said, her eyes glittering with the potential romance behind the piece of jewelry, and beckoned him towards a lovely case. “I’m Helena, by the way,” she said brightly.

“Severus,” the man replied, and stepped closer to inspect the rings. As he gazed at them all, he found himself drawn to a simple yellow gold one, which boasted a healthy amount of green, which wrapped around the entirety of the band; the green matched Harry’s eyes, and Severus was immediately captivated by it. “How much for that one there?”

“For that ring? £235, sir,” Helena reported.

“Sounds perfect,” Severus replied, feeling relieved that he could afford it, and reached into his wallet, easily finding his credit card, and handed it over to Helena.

“A beautiful selection indeed,” Helena complimented, taking the card from Severus and retrieving the ring from the case, and then walked behind the counter to ring him up. She ran his card, which was accepted instantly, and looked back up at Severus. “Would you like this in a box, sir?”

“Please,” Severus said.

Helena nodded with a bright smile, and promptly put the ring in a black velvet box. She had Severus sign the register, which he did with a flourish, before she returned his card to him, and handed the ring over to him with excitement. “Congratulations, sir. I hope they say yes to the proposal.”

“So do I,” Severus replied, and, with a wave, left the shop, putting his card back into his wallet and the ring into another pocket. As he walked, his mobile vibrated in his back pocket, and he immediately retrieved it, his eyes widening automatically at the text from Harry. It stated that he missed him, and he hoped that his errand was going well. Severus replied that he would be back shortly, and he received a final text, letting him know that Harry was pleased.

He walked up the high street and back to his flat, getting out his keys and opening the door upon the ground floor. After locking up behind him, he made his way up the three flights of stairs, far too excited to see Harry to bother with the lift. As he made his way to his flat’s door, he made sure that the ring was safe in his pocket and patted it. He would present it to Harry upon his birthday, he decided, and thought that the firm promise of forever would make Harry quite happy with him indeed. As he dug through his keys and stuck the proper one into the door, however, he was caught off guard when he heard Harry speaking rather frantically, and quickly sped inside, not knowing what to expect.

“You’ve done what?!” Harry shouted from the next room, and Severus hastily put the box with the ring into his peacoat pocket, which was hanging just inside the door. “Please, tell me you’re joking,” Harry begged as Severus shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it, as he was so anxious about Harry. “Ron! How could you?!” Harry was shouting, and his voice was trembling as Severus rounded the bend and saw him, standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of tea upon the island before him, seemingly forgotten. “Ron, this can’t possibly end well...” He looked up then, spotting Severus, and immediately whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”

“Harry, what is it?” Severus asked, stepping closer.

Harry clutched the mobile then, and covered the receiver with his hand. “Ron told Draco what happened at the club, and Draco was spending the night at Grimmauld Place with Ginny, because his mum tends to worry a little too much when he’s been drinking... Yes, I’m still here, Ron,” Harry said, his demeanor immediately changing as he addressed his friend. “No, I don’t think that a simple apology is going to help matters now!” he snapped.

“Harry?” Severus questioned, and Harry looked up at him. “What happened?”

“Ron called Draco this morning, and Sirius heard the conversation,” Harry replied. “Ginny had a hangover, so she was sleeping in, and Draco took the call in the living room, without realizing that Sirius was already making coffee.”

“Shit,” Severus replied.

“That’s right,” Harry reported, clearing his throat in an effort to keep his voice from trembling. “Now Ron’s gotten a text from Draco, saying that Sirius is on his way here, and that Draco’s tailing him in his car!” Harry’s eyes widened then as he absorbed something that Ron was saying. “He’s got a _what_?!” he cried out.

Severus was about to question Harry, but his attention was taken up by a set of feet rapidly climbing up the stairs, and then his front door being kicked in. “Sirius?” Severus asked then, and his eyes widened then at the Browning Hi-Power in his hand, which was trembling ever so slightly, his blue eyes filled with rage. “Sirius, put the gun down...”

“ _Don’t_ say another word, you pedophile!” Sirius yelled, and Harry, hearing the words of his adopted father, promptly stepped forward, and wrapped himself around Severus.

“If you’re planning on killing Severus, then you’d better shoot me, too,” Harry said, glaring at Sirius from across the room, managing to find Severus’s hand and gripping it in his.

“Harry...”

“No!” Harry shouted, ignoring his adopted father’s words. “I love him, and I don’t care what you have to say on the matter. I won’t live without him, I won’t!”

“Sirius, drop the bloody gun!” came a shout from inside the door as Draco ran inside, and ran around Sirius, and came to stand beside Severus and Harry, eyes widening as he spotted the weapon his cousin wielded. “Are you mad?! They banned those things two years ago for a reason! Put it down and get out of here!”

“I won’t let you have my son!” Sirius yelled, ignoring Draco, and pointed the gun at Severus’s head without hesitation. “He’s just a kid, a goddamned kid!”

“I haven’t been a kid since James looked away from what Pettigrew was doing to me! I haven’t been a fucking kid since I was nine! Now, put the gun down, and go home,” Harry said, trying to keep his temper. “We’ll discuss this later...”

“Sirius, listen to Harry, please,” Severus begged, the tremors in his voice apparent. “I swear, I didn’t take advantage of him, I didn’t! He wanted it as much as I did—!”

“If you’ve got any sense left, you’ll listen to Severus!” Draco shouted, eyes narrowed at Sirius. “Put the gun down, and we’ll all resolve this appropriately.”

“This ends now, because I say it does!” Sirius shouted then, and, with a click, the safety was off the weapon. “Now, I’m going to count to three...”

“Sirius...” Severus tried.

“...and when I get there, the two of you,” he said gruffly, and gestured to Harry and Draco will the gun, “will make yourselves scarce while I rid the world of another bloody pedophile.”

“It’s not like that!” Harry shouted.

“One,” Sirius said.

“Sirius, as your cousin, I implore you to see reason!” Draco yelled.

“Two,” Sirius went on.

“Sirius, please listen to me,” Severus said softly.

“Three,” Sirius said, and promptly moved to fire.

In that moment, several things happened. One, Severus shoved Harry out of the way with all his strength, and Harry toppled into the kitchen island, letting out a slight shout at the pain of crashing into the counter. Two, Draco, without hesitation, threw himself in front of the gun as Sirius fired it. And three, Severus screamed as Draco was hit in the chest, which directly caused Harry to whip around, staring open-mouthed at the scene before him.

“Sirius, what have you done?!” Severus screamed.

“Just missed,” Sirius said blandly, and merely raised the gun a second time, and, this time, he didn’t miss, and the only sound that could be heard next was Harry’s scream, as Severus’s legs buckled, and he crumpled to the floor.

~*~

“Get out of here!” Harry yelled then, as soon as his senses had returned to him, courage leaking from every pore in his body. “Don’t even think about coming back, do you hear me?!”

“Harry...”

“No!” Harry shouted, knowing that he had to play this smart. “If they catch you, they’ll put me back into care, and you know it! You didn’t come here to lose me...”

Sirius blinked then, lowering his eyes briefly to the gun, and nodded. “You’re right,” he said, and moved to leave. “You... You’re not going to...?”

“Not if I can help it,” Harry replied, and moved to stand, although his legs trembled. “Go, leave, and get out while you still can!” Harry waited for Sirius to slam the door behind him, and then for him to run down the stairs and out the front door, before he darted forward, mobile already in hand, and knelt between Draco and Severus, careful not to get any of their blood onto him. “Draco!” he cried out then, as Draco’s eyes slowly fluttered before opening. “Oh, my god, are you...?”

“Just fucking call somebody, for christ’s sake,” Draco wheezed, managing to lift his hands to halt the process of the bleeding. “I’ll be fine. Severus is...” He coughed. “...top priority.”

Harry swallowed, but nevertheless dialed 9-9-9 upon his mobile, and, with shaking hands, brought it towards his ear, and nipped at his bottom lip.

“9-9-9, which service do you require?” answered the voice.

“Paramedics!” Harry gasped into the mobile, trying to keep calm, and failing miserably. “Please. My boyfriend and a family friend were shot by an armed assailant.”

“Are you injured?” came the reply. “Paramedics are on the way.”

“I’m just shaken up,” Harry replied, trying to keep it together. “Two other men are down. One has been shot in the temple, and he’s out cold. The other has been shot in the heart, and he’s bleeding out pretty bad...”

“What’s the address?”

“312, on the corner of Hay’s Mews and Chesterfield,” Harry said breathlessly, trying to recall any details he could that would prove to be beneficial to the paramedics. “It’s the massive white stone building, full of flats...”

“Paramedics are on the way to you now,” said the person on the other end of the phone. “It’s all going to be all right...”

Harry, in a daze, answered the door a few minutes later when the paramedics arrived, and they immediately put Severus onto a gurney and took him out, while they saw to Draco in just as efficient a manner. He slowly got to his feet, and requested permission to ride along, and the permission wasn’t granted, as they needed as much room as possible. As Harry shuffled from foot to foot, he noticed Draco extending his arm, and stepped forward.

“Here,” he said, and handed over his set of keys. “Follow us, and call my mum as quick as you can, all right?”

Harry nodded, having had access to Draco’s mother’s number for months, although he was beginning to feel numb, quickly realizing that he was in shock. “Yeah, I-I’ll do that,” he whispered, lifting his hand as the paramedics drove off with both Severus and Draco. Harry dragged a hand through his hair before making his way to Draco’s car, knowing that they would likely be heading to London Bridge Hospital, and let himself into the car, having gone there plenty of times when Blaise was volunteering there. As he sat in the car for several moments, he placed his head into his hands and sobbed, unknowing what would happen.

When he finally permitted himself to drive, Harry cleared his throat and drove promptly to the hospital, finding a place in the visitor’s area of the car park. Once he was all parked, he took out his mobile again, and dialed Narcissa Malfoy’s number, and felt his hand trembling all over again once she answered. “Narcissa,” he whispered.

“Harry, dear? Is that you?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry replied, his voice shaking. “I...”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” she wanted to know.

“It’s Draco, he... Draco’s been shot,” Harry blubbered into the mobile.

“Oh, my god,” Narcissa whispered. “Where are you?”

“We’re all at London Bridge Hospital. I called 9-9-9, and the paramedics have already got him here. They said he’s going to be all right,” Harry replied in a rush.

“Thank you, dear,” Narcissa said, her tone grateful. “I’ll be along shortly.”

“See you soon, then,” Harry said, easing out of the car and cutting the call. He made his way into the hospital, and found the correct waiting area by merely following the signs, before he took his mobile out of his pocket again. He sent off a quick text to Hermione, explaining everything, and knew that she would be able to convey the information to Ron, Ginny, and to the rest of the Weasleys as to what had happened earlier that day. Harry sat back in his chair then, shaking all over, and wasn’t surprised when two policemen walking towards him, looking pretty grave, and he slowly got to his feet.

“Good morning,” one of the men said. “You’re Harry Black?”

Harry sighed, knowing that he’d have to get used to that now. “That’s me,” he replied.

“I’m Officer Barty Crouch and this is Officer Rolf Scamander,” he said, and Harry quickly nodded at them both.

“How do you do?” he asked softly.

“Not so well when a report like this comes in,” Officer Scamander replied gravely. “We’re here to ask you a few questions as to what happened earlier this morning at the flat of one Severus Tobias Snape.”

Harry swallowed, knowing full well that he had to come up with something convincing. “Well, a man broke into the place while Draco and I were there,” Harry said softly.

“What is your relationship to Draco Malfoy?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Harry replied without thinking.

“And Severus Snape?”

“He’s a close, personal friend, formerly my social worker,” Harry replied. “I was just adopted yesterday, and Draco and I were over there to thank him for his statement in court, which ended up securing my adoption. I just wanted to thank him,” he said, causing his voice to break ever so slightly.

“That was very considerate of you, Mr. Black,” Officer Crouch put in, nodding. “So, this man who broke into the flat. Had you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Harry said softly. “I hadn’t seen him before.”

“Are you aware of any enemies that Mr. Snape may have had?” Officer Scamander questioned, and Harry noticed then that he was writing everything down.

Harry shook his head. “No. Although I liked him as a social worker, the two of us weren’t particularly close.”

“Of course not,” Officer Crouch said with a nod. “Who did the man shoot first?”

“I tried protecting Mr. Snape, but he shoved me out of the way before the man fired his weapon,” Harry replied, hunching his shoulders as he recalled the scene. “Draco got in the line of fire, and that’s how he was shot in the upper chest area. Then, the man shot Mr. Snape again, getting him in the temple. I screamed at the man to get out... I didn’t even know if I was an intended target or not, or if any of us were, or if the man just wanted to burgle the place... I just don’t know,” Harry said, and put his head into his hands, emotions getting the better of him again as he sobbed.

“Did the man leave?” Officer Scamander asked.

Harry sighed, lifting his tear-stained face to the officers. “Yes,” he managed to reply. “I guess he was afraid the neighbors would hear or something... He just ran off,” Harry whispered, shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“All right, Mr. Black,” said Officer Crouch, and Harry very nearly curled up his lip at the same, but managed to remain straight-faced. “If there’s nothing else?”

“I... I’d like to call my guardian,” he whispered.

“Yes, of course,” Officer Scamander said. “Go right ahead.”

Harry fumbled for his mobile then, but managed to get it out of his suit pocket, feeling ridiculous at wearing his suit now. “Papa,” he said softly as soon as the man had picked up.

“Harry? Is everything all right?” Remus asked him. “Where have you been?”

Harry swallowed. “I’m at London Bridge Hospital,” he said into the mobile, hating it when his voice shook again.

“Harry! Are you all right?!”

“It’s not me... It wasn’t me. I’m not hurt,” Harry whispered, tears leaking from his eyes, and was relieved when the officers stepped a few feet away, giving him some space.

“Who is hurt, then?” Remus asked.

“Draco,” he whispered. “Draco and Severus.”

“I’m on my way,” Remus assured him.

Harry was permitted to wander a bit, but waited until Narcissa arrived, and recounted what he knew, before handing her Draco’s car keys. He was surprised when she pressed a kiss to his cheek and thanked him for ensuring that Draco would be all right, and Harry merely nodded at her, although he felt completely empty. Once Remus arrived, he and Harry wandered the hallways, talking softly, until Harry couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s my fault.”

Remus stopped walking. “Sorry?”

Harry turned around then, facing Remus, his tears falling from his eyes again, as he decided to face to enormity of the situation head-on. “It’s my fault,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“Harry, what are you saying?” Remus whispered.

Harry sighed, his breath becoming trapped in his throat for a moment before he could finally permit himself to speak again, and he swallowed, feeling completely and utterly wretched at the direct consequences of his actions. “All of this. This... What happened with Draco, what happened with Severus... All of this. It’s my fault.”

Remus looked shocked but allowed Harry to speak, knowing that the teenager obviously needed to get something off his chest. “And why are you taking the blame for what a complete stranger did, Harry?”

Harry’s shoulders hunched then. “It wasn’t a complete stranger, Remus. I... I knew the person. We knew the person,” he said, gesturing in between them. “And for another thing, none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t...”

“If you hadn’t what, Harry?”

Harry turned away from Remus then, and looked out the window, seeing a beautiful robin with an impressive redbreast perched upon a telephone wire. It seemed to twitter for a moment, looking for something in particular, before it flew off, and Harry’s vision became blinded by tears. “Do you ever wish you could fly?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“Fly?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, gripping the beam separating him from the window, as he heard another set of footsteps, and he knew that the officers were there. “Fly.”

“Sometimes,” Remus allowed. “Why?”

“I think it would be a perfectly wonderful thing to be able to do,” Harry mused, shrugging his shoulders as he considered it. His eyes were filled with tears then, and he lowered them from the window, before he turned to face the officers, knowing that the time to confess, at least about the identity of the shooter, had arrived. “I know you knew I was lying before.”

Officer Crouch sighed. “We figured you were quite shaken up, given what happened, so we thought it best to give you a second chance to explain, Mr. Black.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you for that.” He hesitated for a moment before allowing himself to speak again. “I know who came in and shot Draco and Mr. Snape.”

“Yes,” Officer Scamander said, “we figured.” He took up his notepad and pen again, and waited for a moment. “Would you care to tell us the correct information now?”

Harry swallowed. “I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted to them, “but I know that I have to tell you, because all things, all actions, have to have consequences.”

“Very well, Mr. Black,” Officer Crouch said, nodding. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Harry straightened up then. “It was Sirius Black, my adopted father, who broke into Severus Snape’s flat this morning, and shot both Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.”

“Do you have any reason to believe why he would do such a thing, Harry?” Officer Scamander asked, mid-writing.

Harry sighed, hoping that Remus would back him up on this. “Sirius has believed, for some time now, that Severus Snape and I harbor romantic feelings for one another,” Harry replied.

“It’s not true?”

Harry sighed. “I have an attraction to him, but I have no way of knowing if it’s reciprocated, as such a thing would have been inappropriate,” Harry told them. “As for Draco, he is merely a good friend, and we’re not romantically involved at all. In fact, he’s in a committed relationship with my best mate’s sister.”

“Thank you, Mr. Black, I’m sure that was very difficult for you to convey to us both,” Officer Crouch said with a nod, before turning to Officer Scamander. “You ready, then?”

Officer Scamander nodded, his eyes filled with sadness. “Yes. Let’s go,” he said, and the two officers moved to leave the vicinity, as Harry turned to Remus.

“Why didn’t you tell them the entire truth?” Remus asked Harry, his voice soft, yet confused, once he was positive that the officers were out of earshot.

Harry sighed, rolling on the balls of his feet, his throat tightening up. “Because there’s no way I can let Severus go down for loving me, or for me loving him,” he replied. “We should’ve waited...”

“Waited?”

Harry swallowed. “We lost control last night, Remus. At my party,” he said softly, and Remus sighed then. “I just... I couldn’t take it anymore, any of it. I tried to get him to see reason, that we could make a go of being together, but he said it wasn’t the time. I... I ran,” he whispered. “I feel stupid for doing it now, but I just had to run. It was raining last night, did you know that?”

Remus nodded. “Yes.”

“I ran out of the club, down some stairs, and into an alley, intending to get a cab to take me home, because I just couldn’t stand to be there any longer...”

“And then what happened?”

“Severus ran after me, and I was nearly killed by an oncoming car.”

“Bloody hell, Harry...”

“You’re not kidding,” Harry mused. “Anyhow, he grabbed me, and we yelled at each other for a few moments, but, before I knew it, we were snogging, and I begged him to...”

“You spent the night together?”

“Yes. And we didn’t just sleep this time,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “We both of us knew it was wrong, according to the laws out there, but I wanted it so badly, and I...”

“What, Harry?”

“Just... Just once, I didn’t want to be seen as the little boy that Peter Pettigrew hurt and broke. I wanted to be the man that Severus Snape loved,” he whispered.

Remus dragged a hand down his face. “Yes, I see...”

Harry slumped against the wall then and sighed, shaking his head. “You may as well call Magical Kinship now...”

“And why would I do that?”

Harry looked up at him, wrapping his arms around himself. “Because I’ve wrecked everything?” he queried. “I mean, ever since I walked into your life, I’ve just ruined it all...”

“Stop it, do you hear me?” Remus said, shaking his head at him, eyes filled with momentary anger. “I won’t hear you saying such disparaging things about yourself.”

“But, Remus...”

“No buts,” Remus said, clasping Harry’s shoulder. “As soon as we can, we’re going to court to get Sirius’s rights terminated, and I’ll be adopting you.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What? You’re sure?”

“Absolutely sure,” Remus assured him. “Sirius has committed a great crime, I don’t care about the circumstances connected to it. You, Harry, are my son, and have been for the last several months, and I’m not about to lose you now.”

Harry felt himself cry out then, and threw his arms around Remus, and proceeded to sob into his shoulder as he held him, feeling like he had a proper father for the first time in his life. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Now then,” Remus said, gently rubbing Harry’s back, “this is not going to prove to be a simple matter, Harry, but Luca will likely help us once we explain the situation. I hope you know that...”

Harry nodded, pulling back. “I know.”

“For starters, we’ll have to make sure that Luca is able to represent us in court again,” Remus said with a smile, keeping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Then, now that Grimmauld Place will likely be in your name once Sirius is convicted, we can sell it and buy a flat where we can live with Hedwig.”

Harry nodded a second time. “Reasonable,” he agreed.

“And third,” Remus said, “we’ll need to resolve things with Pettigrew.”

Harry gave a shallow nod. “Yes, you’re right. I want to see him.”

“Are you quite sure about that, Harry?”

“I am,” Harry replied. “He stole so much of my childhood away from me, Remus, and I’m tired of just waiting around for my life to begin, as if I need his permission. Well, I don’t need a damn thing from him, and I want to tell him that, those exact words. Even though he shattered me repeatedly when I was under his tyranny, he did not break me completely, and I know that it’ll be good for me to tell him that, and to let the authorities know about all the letters he’s sent.”

Remus smiled down at Harry and nodded. “And then the matter of Severus...”

“I can’t think about it, not right now,” Harry whispered, suddenly fearful. “He’ll never want me, now that all of this has happened. I’m not worth it.”

“Harry, that’s why you should see someone, someone qualified, to discuss your full issues with, uncensored,” Remus informed Harry gently, knowing that it was for the best.

Harry blinked. “Why?”

“Well, because you deserve to have your brain re-wired, so to speak, in an effort for you to truly understand just how worth it you are as a person.”

Harry sighed, but nevertheless nodded at Remus. “Thanks, Dad,” he whispered.

Remus pulled Harry back into his arms and held him there for a moment. “We’re going to get this all worked out, son,” he whispered back. “Can’t tell you how long it’ll take, but we’ll definitely get it done, I can promise you that.”


	10. Functions and Conjunctions

Severus smelled the typical scent of the sterile environment hitting his nostrils as soon as being coherent was deemed appropriate, and slowly felt his eyes fluttering for a moment before they eased open. The room around him was blurry for a moment, likely due from lack of use of his eyes, but, after blinking a few times, the fog seemed to clear, and he realized where he was. He figured out that he was sitting in a hospital room, due to the scent and the sights around him, but one thing that he was surprised about was the feeling of something wrapped around his right wrist and, upon looking down, saw that he was handcuffed to the bed.

The door opened shortly thereafter, and a woman with brown hair, pulled back into a reserved bun, looked him over before permitting herself to step forward. “Ah, Mr. Snape, you’re awake,” she said, and came closer, inspecting his chart. “I’m Helga, your nurse. Is there anything I get you?”

“W...Water,” Severus managed to get out, his voice groggy.

“Yes, that would make sense,” the woman called Helga replied with a nod, and marked something in his chart before getting him the water. She held the cup against his lips and gently tipped it backwards, and Severus worked double time to swallow, his throat slightly raw, due to the inner-workings being sore.

“What day is it?” Severus whispered, as soon as he had drunk his full.

“Monday, the eighteenth of May,” replied Helena brightly, tossing away the cup and moving back to Severus’s chart. “You’ve been in a coma for five weeks and two days.”

Severus managed to push himself into a sitting position, and Helga rushed forward, promptly fluffing up his pillows and making sure that he was comfortable. “What about the other young men I was admitted with?” he asked.

“Mr. Malfoy is doing quite well, and was released from hospital a fortnight ago, but I am not at liberty to discuss anything further in regards to his case,” Helga told him honestly. “As for young Mr. Black, he was justifiably shaken up due to the ordeal of seeing the pair of you shot, but was not injured physically.”

Severus nodded, relieved that he seemed to have gotten the worst of it. “That’s a relief,” he said as Helga went towards the phone beside his bed, and keyed in some sort of code, before she picked it up. “Yes, cafeteria? This is Nurse Hufflepuff,” she said politely into the receiver. “Please send up some chicken consommé to room 326,” she said into the phone. “The patient’s name is Severus Tobias Snape. Thank you,” she said, and set the phone back down into the receiver. “Dr. Hopkirk shall be up here shortly, Mr. Snape, to check you over,” Nurse Hufflepuff went on with a small smile. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Why am I handcuffed to the bed?” he asked.

Nurse Hufflepuff sighed. “That, I’m afraid, is a rather complex question...”

Severus sighed, leaning back upon his pillows. “Of course it is,” he muttered with disdain, but didn’t seek out Nurse Hufflepuff for anything further. It wasn’t long before an orderly arrived with a tray of steaming chicken consommé, and a small pitcher of water, which Nurse Hufflepuff took as her cue to retrieve a glass for him. Severus was permitted to move just so in an effort to feed himself, which he just managed to do. He only managed about half the bowl, although it was rather delicious, until a middle-aged woman with pale brown hair and a rather pointed face entered his hospital room, and Nurse Hufflepuff left.

“Ah, Mr. Snape, so wonderful to have you back with us,” the new woman said with a quick smile. “I’m Dr. Hopkirk, and it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Let’s check your vital signs, shall we?” Her question went unanswered as she stepped forward and got to work and, once she had completed her task, added her thoughts to Severus’s patient chart. “Yes, your sight seems to be back in working order, and you’ve managed to eat a fair amount of your first meal, meaning that your digestive tract hasn’t atrophied completely. We’ll have you up and walking soon enough, as we’ll need to make sure to strengthen your muscles accordingly...”

Severus nodded. “Seems reasonable,” he replied, not knowing what else to say in this particular situation, as deciding what his medical treatment should be was not something he was altogether familiar with.

“You seem to be hearing excellently as well, which will be beneficial once you leave,” Dr. Hopkirk went on, and Severus wondered when that would be, although he didn’t have the courage to ask, given that he was literally handcuffed to his hospital bed. “Yes, I propose some water therapy for you, first and foremost, for it may prove to be easier for you to walk in one of our rehabilitation pools before you do so on land...”

“Pardon me, Dr. Hopkirk,” Severus interrupted, and the woman gazed at him from atop the medical chart she held. “But perhaps _you_ can enlighten me as to why I’m handcuffed?” he asked, hoping that this woman wouldn’t jerk him around.

Dr. Hopkirk surveyed Severus for a moment before she sighed, lowering the chart after finishing up her notes. “You’re being held here on suspicion of statutory rape, Mr. Snape,” she said gravely, her gray eyes filling with discomfort.

Severus stiffened from within his hospital bed at the saddened tone of the woman’s words; of course, in the eyes of the law, he was as guilty as sin, but he couldn’t go broadcasting that fact, now could he? Not when Harry had been so adamant that their night together had been utterly consensual, and that he didn’t regret any of it for a moment?

“Yes, I see,” Severus remarked softly, knowing that her statement deserved a response, no matter how many plausible answers there were for it.

“The man who attacked you in your flat, however, has been found out to be Sirius Black, thanks to his adopted son’s say-so, and Mr. Malfoy’s statement to law enforcement,” Dr. Hopkirk went on, and Severus nodded.

“And where is he now?”

“Sirius Black?” Dr. Hopkirk asked, and, at Severus nod, replied, “He was surrounded by police after fleeing to Yorkshire, and ended up shooting himself at the scene.”

Severus swallowed. “Is he alive?”

“Yes, he was held in hospital until the bullet was removed from his stomach, and then he was transferred directly to Manchester, where he’s already been charged by the judge with one count of attempted premeditated murder, as well as one count of attempted involuntary manslaughter.”

Severus felt a lump developing in his throat at the news, which caused him to nod, though he was still uncomfortable with the entirety of the situation. “Yes. I know it was him,” he said softly.

“The police will likely want to speak with you, once I give word that you’ve woken up,” Dr. Hopkirk went on, and looked behind her for a moment, before turning back to face Severus. “You’ve been put on leave from your position at Magical Kinship, in accordance with the investigation, with the full approval of your superior, Albus Dumbledore.”

Severus nodded. “Yes, I understand,” he told her.

“The statutory rape charge may stick, I’m afraid, as young Mr. Black was apparently too traumatized to speak with the police further than the two times he did the day of the shooting,” Dr. Hopkirk whispered. “I’m old friends with Remus, his guardian, and it is only with his permission that I am sharing this information with you.”

“He’s traumatized?” Severus whispered, shaking his head at the notion of what he could have potentially done to Harry, despite the teenager proclaiming his love for him multiple times. “Dear lord...”

“Harry apparently spoke to the police on the day of the shooting, twice,” the doctor repeated. “Once to give them the story, and the second to amend his statement. Nowhere in the statements taken by police is there a mention of an inappropriate relationship with you, Mr. Snape.”

Severus blinked, shocked at this sudden declaration. “You mean to tell me that Harry is denying that we are anything more to each other?”

“Yes, as he should,” Dr. Hopkirk replied, nodding. “Whatever the authorities are insinuating happened between the two of you is against the law, no matter what the two of you claim to feel for one another.”

Severus stiffened. “Yes, I see.”

“I am not against you loving one another, Mr. Snape, not at all,” the woman said softly. “I am, however, against coercion.”

“There was none of that,” Severus said, permitting himself to glare at the woman. “There was absolutely none of that, I assure you. I may be questionable in many ways—falling in love with a seventeen-year-old boy, and giving way to impulsive behavior every now and again, as well as not following through with certain things... But to actually stand there and paint me as some sort of monster who would willingly force disgusting acts onto a minor, without their permission or consent, is wholly reprehensible, and I would sooner be thrown in jail than admit to doing something like that.”

Dr. Hopkirk sighed. “Harry has asked to see you,” she said after a few moments, almost as if she was contemplating allowing such a thing to take place. “Would you be amenable to speaking with him?”

“Yes, I would,” Severus replied. “I’d be glad to.”

Dr. Hopkirk looked amazed at Severus’s apparent willingness, but nevertheless lowered the clipboard back onto its appendage onto the foot of the hospital bed and crossed the room. She wore a cream-colored outfit that day, along with a baby blue cardigan on the outside of her starched cream-colored blouse. Her black heels clicking unmercilessly on the hardwood floor of the hospital room, as she made her way directly to the door and opened it, hesitating for just a moment before she stepped out into the corridor, the door squeaking closed behind her.

Severus made himself comfortable in his hospital bed again, punching the bolsters behind him into place and dragging the too-thin blanket closer around him. Despite the fact that it was now the month of May, there seemed to be a drizzle outside that was threatening to become a heavy downpour, and Severus was relieved not to be out in it. The clouds were pearl-gray, and were easily ridding themselves of the rain as it littered the streets, cars, sidewalks, buildings, and people lurking below it, and Severus hoped that they had proper rain gear, or at least an umbrella, to keep themselves dry.

The door opened a few minutes later, and Harry stepped inside the hospital room on his own. He seemed more assured by something as he crossed the path from the door, which automatically closed behind him, and towards Severus’s bed. He made a grab for a visitor’s chair close by and pulled it towards the side of the bed, giving Severus a smile that could only be described as “polite”, if any positive adjectives readily came to mind. As he perched on the chair, he folded his hands upon his knees, and hesitated for a moment.

“Harry,” Severus said softly, wanting more than anything to reach out towards him, to take him into his arms and to run away from here forevermore, but made no move to do so. “Are you all right?”

Harry swallowed. “In all honesty, Severus, I’ve been better.”

Severus sighed. “Dr. Hopkirk told me about what happened with Sirius,” he said gently, not wanting to upset the young man.

“Yes, it was quite a shock,” Harry told him with a nod. “How could he just lose control like that?” he queried, although Severus knew that the question was rhetorical, and shook his head a little sadly. “He was supposed to be my father...”

“Harry, he acted how many fathers, or parents in general, would have reacted—”

“He reacted on falsehoods, Severus,” Harry told him gently, and Severus stared at Harry, unsure of the young man’s meaning.

“Falsehoods? What are you...?”

“Severus, Sirius told police that you and I were acting inappropriately,” Harry went on, although his tone was bland, as if he was hiding something close to his chest. “He made it a point to tell them that I spent the night at your flat, and Narcissa and Draco have already come forward to witness the fact that I was at the estate that night after my party.”

Severus shook his head. “I don’t understand. I know that we...”

“Severus, Dr. Hopkirk informed me and Remus...” He cleared his throat. “...me and Dad that you would experience some false memories for a time after awakening from your coma.”

“False memories? Harry, I don’t...”

“No, I don’t expect you to,” Harry told him with a kind smile. “Essentially, you created a scenario in which you believed you and I went too far. I’ll admit, I find you attractive, and admitted as much to the police, but claimed that at no point in time did you know about the attraction, nor did you act inappropriately with me.”

“Harry...”

“No, Severus, let me finish,” Harry said quickly, cutting across him. “I told them that you swore an oath about doing no harm when you became a social worker—just like doctors do—and that you would never cross any kind of inappropriate lines with me.”

“Harry, Sirius was in my flat, and he _saw_...”

“He misunderstood,” Harry told him, and Severus watched as he straightened up in the hospital chair he sat in. “Draco accompanied me to your flat after we spent the night at the estate. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were there as well, like on Halloween, where we _also_ didn’t cross lines of any kind,” he continued. “The next day, after Ron, Hermione, and Ginny slept off their wretched hangovers, Draco went with me to your flat so that I could thank you personally for allowing me to be adopted by Sirius.”

“Harry...”

“However,” Harry continued, as if Severus had not spoken, “Sirius was worried because my phone battery had died, and Ron, thinking he was being helpful, informed Sirius of where Draco and I were when Sirius contacted him, looking for me. However, Sirius misunderstood Ron’s meaning, and thought that Draco had just driven me to your flat, and wasn’t there with me.”

“Harry, you’re not making sense...”

“Oh, I think it makes perfect sense, Severus,” Harry replied patiently. “You see, Sirius’s family has a history of mental illness, just look at his cousin and Narcissa’s sister, Bellatrix, who had to leave the social work game and was sent to Broadmoor for obsessive compulsive personality disorder, and a whole battery of other things. Sirius has succumbed completely to madness, and is refusing treatment, so much so that, unfortunately, he’ll be sent to prison, as he doesn’t believe that a place like Broadmoor is suitable for him.”

Severus sank into his bed, shivering from head to toe at Harry’s words, wondering just how mad he was, to imagine such a relationship with Harry... “So, you’re saying, that you and I haven’t crossed any lines?”

“None of the kind Sirius is proclaiming, no,” Harry assured him, and gave him a soft smile. “I assure you that the police are on the way, to get that wretched thing off you,” he said, and nodded at the handcuff. “You’ve no need of it.”

“No?” Severus asked.

“No,” Harry said softly, shaking his head. He looked around then, before moving to offer his hand to Severus, and shook it, before he whispered, “Not everything is as it seems.”

Severus blinked. “Pardon?” he asked.

Harry smiled a little sadly then, before he repeated, “Not everything is as it seems. Reality is an illusion, nothing is real, life is but a dream,” before letting go of Severus’s hand and, turning around, left his hospital room without looking back.

~*~

Harry had been holed up in his bedroom for two consecutive weekends studying for his A-Levels, and, when he was taking the mandatory breaks that Remus had ordered him to take, he was sitting with Luca Zabini, going over his testimony for his upcoming trial with Sirius. Not only was he preparing to have his adoption nullified, but he was also preparing to stand as a witness to the shooting of Draco Malfoy and Severus himself. He hated, hated lying, but knew it was the only chance to save Severus. Even though Draco thought he was mad, he’d agreed to it, and, subsequently, so, too had Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who were just beginning to speak to Harry again.

When Harry was finally a week away from the A-Levels, at the beginning of June, he found that he could not go through another minute of studying. After promising Hermione to cram with her, Ron, Ginny, and Draco—Hermione because she was taking the same classes the boys were, and Ginny because she wanted to get a jump-start for her A-Levels next year—on the last three days, Harry pulled out his computer and got to work on something else. Oliver had been pestering him about _The Wicked Count_ , and Harry had plenty to do, since it was decided that the eighth and ninth books respectively would be released at the same time. With Severus in hospital, Harry found that writing the literal love story of Hadrian Peverell and Sebastian Prince was downright devastating, but he had a deadline to keep, and an agent to keep happy. He plodded through both books long into the night but, finally, he got the final drafts of both books done the night before he was due to cram with Hermione and the rest of them, and promptly sent them off to Oliver, knowing that this was the beginning of the end.

Harry awoke on the day of his A-Levels feeling drained; as soon as his final exam was over, he had to meet Remus and Luca in the courtroom at the Royal Courts of Justice to testify against Sirius. The adoption had been nullified rather quickly, so Remus was now legally his father, thanks to a high-ranking judge owing Luca a favor. Harry had told Remus that he would rather become ‘Potter’ again and Remus, much to his surprise, agreed. However, Harry asked that he would be able to change his middle name to ‘Remus’, so as to distance himself somewhat from James, who had never truly been a father to him in the first place, and Remus thought it was a wonderful idea.

Harry arrived at court within the hour of completing his final A-Level, and was relieved that Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny had agreed to be there for him that day. He was further relieved that there had been no resentment or backlash from either Narcissa Malfoy or the Weasleys, who firmly believed that Sirius had acted out of line, and that Draco and Severus were merely casualties, with Harry being collateral damage. Harry waited with his friends until he was called, and his friends promptly journeyed to the gallery while Harry was led to the witness stand, where Judge Albert Runcorn was staring him down. Harry decided he would not permit the man to intimidate him in any way, and merely sat up in the straight-backed chair, awaiting to speak only when spoken to.

“State your name for the record,” came Judge Runcorn’s commanding voice; his pale blue eyes glared at Harry, and the man sported a full beard and black hair, which curled ever so slightly, in the same color of his beard.

Harry sat up even straighter, refusing to be intimidated. “Harry Remus Potter,” he said, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t be docked points for using his new name.

Judge Runcorn didn’t react, and swiftly lowered his down to his paperwork, which he seemed to regard intimately. “Jorkins,” he said to the chief crown prosecutor, who was as thin as a reed, and sported a rather unappealing shade of blond hair. “You’re up first to question young Mr. Potter, and I suggest that you get a move on.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Jorkins said, obviously trying his best to make his voice not come out as a squeak, as he shakily got to his feet, and straightened out his suit. “Mr. Potter, you stated in your statement to police that, on the evening of April the tenth of this year, after your celebration of your adoption at the nightclub of Fred and George Weasley, that you spent the night at the residence of Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied with a nod.

“Who else was sleeping in the residence that evening?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Mr. Ronald Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger, and Miss Ginevra Weasley were also sleeping there, sir,” he said flawlessly.

“How were you all feeling upon your arrival to the house?”

“We were all quite hungover, sir,” Harry said, allowing his manner to go sheepish. “Mrs. Malfoy was less-than-pleased at our respective inebriated states, and told us all to go to bed immediately, which we did.”

“And the following morning?”

“I awoke around eight, and took a shower,” Harry said, remembering what Luca had told him to say, and repeated it word for word. “I went downstairs around eight-thirty, where I helped myself to some breakfast. Draco woke up next.”

“And what happened when young Mr. Malfoy awoke?”

“I asked him if he wouldn’t mind driving me to the flat of my former social worker, Mr. Severus Snape,” Harry told him promptly. “When he asked me why, I informed him that I wished to thank him properly for his kind words mentioned in court, which paved the way for me to be adopted by Mr. Sirius Black.”

“And what happened next, Mr. Potter?”

“Draco and I left the Malfoy residence and headed across town to Downtown London, where Mr. Snape lives,” he said softly. “Hermione, who was also in his care when she was a child, had told me once before where he lived.”

“And you recalled this information?”

Harry gave him a small smile. “I don’t have a large circle of people that I spend my time with,” he said softly. “And besides, there is the matter of the occasional good memory in various people to consider.”

“You consider yourself to have a good memory?”

“For certain things, sir, yes, I do.”

Jorkins decided at that moment to move on. “And when did you and Draco arrive at the residence of Mr. Severus Snape?”

“Around a quarter after nine,” Harry said.

“And what happened?”

“My mobile had died,” Harry explained. “I have a different model than Draco did, and so I wasn’t able to remedy that fact at the Malfoy residence. Mr. Snape and I have similar phones, however, and so I was able to charge it just enough when the three of us—that is, me, Draco, and Mr. Snape—all spoke at his flat.”

“And did you receive any phone calls that morning on your mobile, Mr. Potter, while at the residence of Mr. Snape?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. Ron telephoned me, letting me know that Sirius had called him, asking to know where I was, as I’d neglected to tell him the night before where I was going to be sleeping, as I said, my mobile had died.”

“What did Mr. Weasley tell you during your conversation?”

“He told me that he had informed Sirius of where I was,” he said, and shook his head. “I was naturally concerned, as Sirius had gotten it into his head some time ago that Mr. Snape and I were involved inappropriately.”

Jorkins nodded. “Yes, I see.”

“Ron had also misunderstood, or Sirius had—I’m sorry, I don’t know which—that I had come to Mr. Snape’s flat with Draco,” Harry explained. “Ron knew that Draco had driven me there, but I think he thought that Draco would return to the Malfoy residence, and I would call Sirius or my dad to take me back to Grimmauld Place later that morning.”

“And how long after your arrival did Sirius arrive at the flat?”

“No later than fifteen or twenty minutes,” Harry said, swallowing. “He was raving as soon as he came in, and it didn’t take him long to brandish a gun.”

“What was said during this time?” Jorkins wanted to know.

“Draco reminded Sirius that guns were banned, but Sirius didn’t want to listen. I even tried to dissuade him from doing anything rash, but he just wouldn’t stop...”

“Go on, Mr. Potter. Take your time,” Jorkins told him.

“Well, he moved to shoot Mr. Snape, but I blocked his way, knowing that it wouldn’t solve anything, in the end,” Harry said quietly. “But, then, when Sirius pulled the trigger, Mr. Snape shoved me away, and Draco got willingly into the line of fire. Once that happened, Sirius remarked that he had missed his shot, and proceeded to shoot Mr. Snape as well.”

“Mr. Black informed us all that you claimed that you said to him that he would have to kill you if he intended upon killing Mr. Snape that day,” Jorkins put in.

Harry sighed. “He misunderstood.”

“Well, what did you mean by your words, then, Mr. Potter?”

“I meant that he would have to kill me so that there would be no witnesses to the crime he’d committed,” Harry explained. “However, I’m not sure he took into account that Draco was still semi-conscious, or that both Draco and Mr. Snape would ultimately survive their respective injuries inflicted by him.”

Jorkins nodded. “And then what happened?”

“I pretended to sympathize with him,” Harry remarked, still halfway wondering how he had managed to do such a thing. “I told him that he needed to run and get out of there, for if he was found at the scene, he could lose me.”

“And what did Mr. Black do then?”

“He ran,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. “I called 9-9-9 as soon as I was sure he was gone and that it was safe to do so. Mr. Snape was out cold, but I spoke a bit to Draco.”

“And why did you infer that Draco Malfoy was your boyfriend to the paramedics?”

“Because I was afraid that Sirius would tell the hospital staff otherwise, and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Mr. Snape,” Harry said softly.

Jorkins let out a sigh. “You’ve frequently referred to Mr. Black as the suspect, the man who shot down both Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.”

Harry gave a stiff nod. “Yes.”

“Do you see the man here today in the courtroom who shot both men?”

Harry nodded then, slowly turning to where Sirius sat across the room, with his barrister, Arnold Peasegood, were sitting. “Yes,” he replied once more, and lifted his hand, extending his index finger slowly, and pointing directly at Sirius. “That’s the man who gunned down both Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Jorkins said, and bowed his head. “I am so sorry that you had to come here today to do this.”

Harry swallowed, but nevertheless gave Jorkins’s a nod. “You’re welcome,” he said softly, and felt relieved when he was permitted to get off the stand as, surprisingly, Barrister Peasegood had no questions for him.

~*~

Severus had just poured himself a pot of tea and ventured into his living room, sitting in the wingback armchair beside his fireplace, and was facing the window. It was a cloudy day at the beginning of July, and he had heard snippets of the trial, knowing that Harry had testified and done it well, although it did not assuage the worry he had for the young man. As he reached towards his ottoman and picked up the book he was currently reading— _The Things They Carried_ by Tim O’Brien—he heard a soft, yet assured knock on his front door.

Perplexed, Severus set his tea and book aside and got to his feet, moving promptly towards the door and peering out of his newly-installed spyhole, which he had gotten in the wake of the shooting weeks before. He had been out of hospital for a period of nearly five weeks, and, at Albus’s behest, was still on sick leave, despite him being cleared of any inappropriate relations with Harry. As he peered through the hole, he was very surprised to see Hermione Granger standing there and, against his better judgement, unlocked the door and stood back, letting her inside without a word.

“Good afternoon, Severus,” Hermione said, a weak smile upon her face. Her usually bright and exuberant brown eyes were instead marred with bags, and her usual upright gait was a bit slower as she took the opposite chair beside the fire, having figured out where Severus had been sitting before she came in.

“I was just having some tea, Hermione,” Severus said softly, taking note of her changed appearance and finding himself taken aback by it. “Would you like some?”

Hermione kept that smile in place, although it looked a bit sad upon closer inspection, although she powered through it. “Yes, that sounds lovely, Severus. Thank you.”

Severus gave the young woman a nod, quickly going into the kitchen and retrieving a second mug from the pantry, and pouring her a cup of steaming tea—milky, two sugars. He brought it back into the living room, and Hermione promptly took it from him, before settling back into her claimed chair, watching his every move. “How have things been for you?” he asked, returning to his own seat and staring across at her. “A-Levels go all right?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, thank you. All A* grades,” she said, and managed a slightly brighter smile than the sorry ones she’d given him before. “Oxford is more than pleased to have me for next term, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m glad for you.” Severus lifted his own mug of tea and blew on it, before slowly moving it towards his lips and sipping it. “And everything else?”

“Ron’s going to study business at University College, and is very excited about it all, although I’m not sure it’s what he truly wants, or if he just wants to make the family proud.” Shaking her head, she sipped her own tea. “Draco is looking forward to taking over Malfoy Media, and restoring it to its former glory. The shareholders and the board have been running it, and although it’s remained in the black for some time, he wants to revitalize it.”

“Most ambitious for one so young,” Severus observed. “However, I would expect no less from someone like Draco Malfoy.”

“No,” Hermione agreed, and, this time, a genuine smile came onto her face. “Draco’s really looking forward to it, I think.”

Severus hesitated for a moment, the question on the tip of his tongue, before curiosity won out in the end and he sighed, permitting himself to ask. “And Harry? How is Harry?”

Hermione’s brow puckered then, and she shook her head. “He’s been spending a lot of time with Remus in their new flat. They sold off Grimmauld, you know.”

Severus nodded. “Yes, I’d heard.”

“He’s concerned about his future...”

“Has the Cordon Bleu reneged on their promise to take him?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Hermione said quickly, although she still appeared concerned. “It is where he’s attending that’s got me worried.”

“Worried? Why would you be...?”

“He’s opted not to remain in London,” she said quietly.

Severus felt his heart proceed to slam and clench in his chest repeatedly at the news. “Not remain in London? I thought it was his intention to remain here...”

“Not anymore, apparently,” she said, and sighed. “We hardly see him anymore. The only time he really gets out of the house is to take long walks with Hedwig, and to go to the shops. He’s taking care of all the cooking now; he says its practice, but I think it’s becoming an obsession of his, because he’s _always_ doing it...”

“Were his A-Level grades all right?”

“A’s and A* marks, so, justifiably, yes,” she confirmed with a frown. “It’s just that he’s so withdrawn, and has been these last several weeks, and that’s what’s worrying me the most...”

“Why worry? Perhaps he is merely processing his future, and needs to do so in solitude. He is moving, after all...”

“He wants to go to Paris, at least, he claims he wants to go there,” Hermione whispered. “It is a perfectly romantic thought, to say the least, but why would he want to leave?”

“To broaden his horizons perhaps? After all, it is reportedly the best culinary country in the world, so why wouldn’t he want to attend university there, when he himself is studying culinary things?”

“No, that’s not the point,” Hermione said, growing slightly impatient as she finally lowered her cup of tea, completely giving up on it, her brown brows puckering.

“All right, then, Hermione. Explain the point to me, then.”

She swallowed then, her fingers knotting themselves together. “He told you, didn’t he?” she whispered, looking concerned. “Harry. He told you that you were his inspiration for Sebastian Prince, after he met you when he was ten-years-old?”

Severus sighed, running his hand down his face. “Yes. I seem to recall that rather important tidbit of information...”

“Why do you seem so down about it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be down?” Severus muttered, his tone bitter. “I have fabricated an elaborate fantasy in which I bedded a seventeen-year-old boy, and that we proclaimed our love for one another and, clearly, I need my head examined because of it...”

“Fabricated?” Hermione whispered. “What are you talking about?”

“Harry came to me after I awoke in hospital from my coma, telling me that Dr. Hopkirk informed him that I would experience delusional fantasies, and that nothing inappropriate ever happened between the two of us...”

“Rubbish,” Hermione snapped, cutting him off.

Severus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Hermione let out a noise of exasperation before launching herself to her feet and advancing upon his ornately-carved bookshelf on the other side of the room. Her eyes rapidly scanned the titles for a moment before yanking one out, and Severus would recognize it anywhere— _The Wicked Count and the Trials of Fire_. He watched as Hermione opened the book to the title page and shoved it into his hands, glaring down at him. “What does it say?”

Severus sighed, but nevertheless looked down at the page, and read the words which Harry had inscribed to him personally. “Not everything is as it seems. Reality is an illusion, nothing is real, life is but a dream...” Just as he finished the sentence, however, he looked up at Hermione, his mouth promptly falling open. “What...?”

“He was trying to tell you something when you woke up in hospital,” Hermione said, her voice much more gentle than it had been before.

“What...?” Severus whispered again.

“It was a secret code, your secret code,” she said. “When you were figuring out that he was Linfred Hardwin, he wrote that to you. Now, he’s telling you that because he wanted you to know that he was lying to you.”

“Lying to me?” Severus demanded. “But why would he...?”

“It was done to protect you, Severus,” Hermione said, shaking her head at him. “He didn’t want you to throw your entire career away for him.”

“I would have,” Severus said quickly.

“Severus, _think_ about it for a moment,” Hermione said, her patience growing thin. “You would have been branded a pedophile—which we all know you’re not, but the law won’t see it that way, given Harry’s past, and you know it—and you would have subsequently been thrown into jail, if enough information had been gathered by authorities.”

Severus sighed. “Why wouldn’t he just tell me the truth?”

“Do you really want me to answer that, Severus?”

Severus nodded. “Yes. Please. Tell me.”

Hermione gave him a small smile. “Because, no matter what you’ve said, the promises you’ve made, and the like, Harry still believes that, on some level, he is unlovable,” she said quietly.

“That’s outrageous!” Severus cried out. “He is completely lovable! I love him!”

“I know you do, Severus,” Hermione assured him. “But Harry will still need some convincing and, when the time is right to do so, I know you will.”

Severus sighed, getting to his feet then. “First things first,” he said, crossing the room and making a grab for his peacoat, which he grabbed off the peg too roughly, and the velvet box came flying out of his pocket, and flew across the floor.

Hermione automatically bent and picked it up, and opened it at once. “Severus,” she breathed, and shook her head, “is this what I think it is?”

Severus nodded as Hermione crossed the room and returned the box to him, which he slipped into a drawer. “Yes.”

“You were going to ask him, weren’t you? That day. Before all went to hell.”

Severus nodded a second time. “I was, yes.”

Hermione shifted from foot to foot. “What are you going to do now?”

“Rectify a situation,” Severus said, and opened the door, and Hermione promptly followed him out into the hallway, watching as he locked the door behind him.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, following him quickly down the staircase, wanting at least some information.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Severus told her. They made it down the flights of stairs and outside into the overcast day, and promptly towards Severus’s car, which Hermione invited herself into without being asked, which didn’t faze Severus. They drove a few minutes until they arrived at the car park for Magical Kinship, and Severus promptly shut off his car and exited it, making his way over towards the entrance, Hermione at his heels.

“Severus, what are you...?”

Severus held up his hand, effectively silencing the young woman as he let himself in, Hermione promptly following, and made his way down the corridor. Letting himself inside the door beside the gaudy stone gargoyle, he gave Penelope a nod and stepped into the office beyond. “Albus,” he greeted with a small smile.

“Severus,” Albus said, getting to his feet. “Hermione?” he queried as she appeared behind him, and the girl promptly shrugged her shoulders, unknowing as to what was going on here, and just appeared to be along for the ride.

“Albus, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Severus informed him. He was fiddling with his keys for a moment, before he detached two of them and placed them onto Albus’s desk. “The keys to my office and to the front door.”

“Severus?” Albus asked, his blue eyes filled with confusion.

“I’ve come to tender my resignation, Albus,” Severus told him firmly, and Hermione audibly gasped from behind him, while Albus merely raised his eyebrows. “I’ll never thank you or Gellert enough for all you’ve done for me, but it is time for me to move on.” He gave Albus a smile then, and nodded his head. “I’m going to pack up my office, and then I’ll be out of everyone’s hair for good.”

“Any particular reason for this, Severus?” Albus asked as Severus turned around and made his way to exit the office.

“Yes,” Severus replied. “I’m in love with Harry,” he said simply, before giving a bright smile to the man who had become his father, and made his way to his office, chuckling at the notion that Hermione was demanding that Albus see reason, and Albus claiming that he was happy for Severus, and would make no move to stop him.

~*~

The sale of Grimmauld Place had come about after Sirius had been found guilty of all crimes and sentenced to twenty years. In the aftermath, Harry renewed his interest in visiting Peter Pettigrew in prison, and was relieved when Remus consented to this. He would call him either ‘Dad’ or ‘Remus’, depending on his mood, and Remus had never forced the issue either way. All in all, both men were content in their little flat in the center of London, and Hedwig had proved to be an emotional support for the both of them.

Harry, armed with written permission from Remus to visit Pettigrew, arrived at the class A prison in the third week of July, unknowing as to how the visit would go. When the paperwork was approved and he was invited into the visitor’s room to see the prisoner, he was shocked at what he saw. Pettigrew was smaller than he remembered, and he seemed altogether weaker as a person. The logical conclusion for the latter fact hit Harry like an arrow, when he realized, for the first time, how strong he was, and as he sat before Pettigrew, he found he had never felt so strong in his entire life.

“You can get on with your pathetic existence once you answer me one thing,” he growled at the man, who remained silent, obviously waiting for Harry to pose the question he’d been so longing to ask. “Why?”

Pettigrew blinked. “What?”

“Why did you rape me?” Harry asked simply. “Why did you feel you had the right to do all you did to me?”

“Because I wanted to,” Pettigrew said simply. “You were a little, powerless boy, and it wasn’t as if people were around that cared enough to stop me. In those few moments, _I_ had the power, and I got to do what I always wanted—be in control. Not like you had a very difficult time of it after we lost you to care, eh?”

Harry knew he wouldn’t get much more than that, but resolved not to be ungrateful for the visit, for it had allowed him the closure he had been wanting for so many years. He spent the next week and a half sorting through his belongings and deciding what he would ultimately take to Paris, what would go to charity shops, and what was going to be tossed in the bin entirely. As he looked, he discovered a Polaroid that Ginny had snapped upon his first night at the Burrow. It was of him and Severus, sitting and talking, and Harry immediately detected how relaxed his body language was, even in the beginning, when it came to Severus.

Tracing their bodies within the picture, Harry attempted to ignore the tears streaming down his face, but he found he was unable to do so. “It was always you, Severus,” he whispered, before putting the photo into the ‘keep forever’ pile.

Pushing himself upwards from his barely-begun task, Harry marched over to the computer. The dual successes of books eight and nine of _The Wicked Count_ hadn’t been that surprising, but Harry was about to do one better. As he booted up his computer and opened a new document, he felt as if his fingers were flying over the keys of their own accord. He just kept writing, and as the hours passed and the stars came out, he knew that he would never be able to stop until the task was done. Remus was pulling an all-nighter at Magical Kinship that night anyway, so it wasn’t as if he had anything to do. Their new flat was a ground floor one, and they had a little garden in the back, which Hedwig knew how to use, and she had access to food and water at all times, so it wasn’t as if she was lacking for anything for the moment.

Finally, as the sun rose the next morning, Harry typed the final sentence in the document. He felt his eyes filled with tears, reading the final paragraph, knowing that it was truly the end of the story of Hadrian Peverell and Sebastian Prince...

_And although the public would forever know Hadrian Peverell as Adrianna Peverell, he knew that it was a small sacrifice. Sebastian did not mind that Hadrian had to be Adrianna in public, and it amused him greatly that his “wife” had to wear all those layers beneath his skirts. And as Hadrian and Sebastian watched their children—Raphael Alexandre, Nathanael Marcellus, and Claudette Iolanthe Prince—grow up in a household filled with tenderness and love, they felt as if they had made their own happy ending, one that they wouldn’t have changed for anything._

_All was well._

Harry quickly typed “The End” at the ending of the document, before hastily adding, at the top, _The Wicked Count and the Eternal Love_ as its title. He then sent the completed manuscript to Oliver, before jumping into the shower. Once that was finished, Harry left Hedwig asleep in the living room and ran from the house, jogging up and down the various blocks, the warm summer air filling in his lungs, and he found he felt freer than he had in a long time. Upon his return to the flat, he got a response from Oliver, who told him that it was perfect for the expedition to announce Harry to the world as Linfred Hardwin, which was to be scheduled at Flourish and Blotts eleven days from that dawn. Harry typed out a response, accepting it, knowing that he would have to invite Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny to the event.

Once Remus returned home and he and Harry had naps, it was over sandwiches and tea later on that afternoon that Harry gave his adopted father the big news. Naturally, Remus was more than pleased for his son, and they planned to go shopping to get new clothes for the event. Harry found he was slightly nervous as the days ticked by, but was pleased that his four closest friends had agreed to be there for him.

Finally, the night in question arrived, and Harry, although saddened by it, didn’t expect any kind of response from the card he had sent Severus, inviting him to the event. He arrived there with Remus, and was promptly hidden backstage while Remus was instructed to mingle within the crowd, sipping champagne and eating salmon on crackers. Harry’s stomach turned at the scent of the fish, and paced up and down in his allotted space, not knowing how he was supposed to handle the public—the public that had been his all along, but now he was permitted to enjoy it, and all that came with it.

“Harry?”

Harry turned at the familiar voice, and smiled in relief when he saw that Hermione was standing there. “How on earth did you get back here, ‘Mione?” he asked.

Hermione grinned at him. “Had to escape that wretched smell of fish,” she replied.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her brutal honesty, for she was normally so polite. “If you were sick, why did you come tonight? I would’ve understood if you had to miss it...”

Hermione shook her head. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything, Harry.”

“Then, why is the smell of fish bothering you?” he asked her.

Hermione sighed, appearing uncomfortable. “Ill-planning,” she told him, shrugging her shoulders. “I haven’t told Ron yet, but he’ll find out about it soon enough.”

“What do you...?” Harry began, but Hermione was already heading back out, likely to brave the scent of fish again.

Peeking through the curtain, he saw Remus standing with Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny, who were all dressed impeccably. Even though he was sporting a bottle green suit which matched his eyes, and had been picked out by Hermione and Ginny, he still felt out of place amidst all the finery and excitement. He knew that Oliver’s pep-talk that he would get used to all this soon enough was supposed to have helped him, but Harry was unsure. As he knotted his hands together, the clock struck the hour of eight, and Oliver went out on stage, with a smile in Harry’s direction.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Oliver said, his Scottish accent rippling elegantly through the room. “I was to let you all know, first and foremost, that advanced copies of the final _Wicked Count_ book, _The Eternal Love_ , will be going on sale tonight. As a matter of fact, Linfred Hardwin wrote it in just under twelve hours, less than two weeks ago.” Oliver permitted the gasps and whispers to filter through the space when he called for silence again. “Now,” he said, taking another breath, “Linfred Hardwin is here tonight. However, the man all of you know as Linfred Hardwin is actually Viktor Krum, a model from Bulgaria. The real Linfred Hardwin is here with us tonight. Linfred?” Oliver called.

Understanding his cue, Harry came out onstage, to many gasps, but the gasps soon turned into shouts of approval, and the whole of the place erupted into mighty applause. When Harry was motioned over to the podium, he did so, although he was still nervous. “Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen,” he said into the microphone. “I am afraid I could not share my true identity with all of you, as I began writing these stories when I was sixteen-years-old. Tonight is my eighteenth birthday, and it was decided then that it would be appropriate for me to come out and meet all of you officially.” He took a breath. “Through some unspeakably awful circumstances, including both of my parents dying—my mother at my birth, and my father when I was ten-years-old—as well as devastating abuse, I was put into the care system. I didn’t have a proper family within it until I was seventeen, and my father, my real father, is here tonight,” he said, his eyes sweeping the crowd, finding Remus within it, but it was then that he saw Remus smiling knowingly, and, looking to where Hermione was standing, he saw that Severus was just beside her. “It appears as if everyone I love is here tonight,” he said, his heart pounding in his ears as Severus’s intense gaze softened. “I couldn’t have completed this fantastic journey without any of you, and I shall be truly grateful. Thank you very much, and I hope you all enjoy the book,” Harry said, stumbling over the last bit as he broke away from the podium, and running towards the staircase. He pushed through the crowd, looking for Severus, and, when he did at last, it was when his arms went around him that he knew he had found home.

“Harry?” Severus whispered, questioning.

Harry stood on his toes then, kissing Severus in front of everyone, tears flowing down his face, and found that he didn’t care if this meant he never sold another book again. “I love you,” he whispered, finally permitting himself to go back down. “I’m sorry about everything...”

Severus bent down then, cutting Harry off, and kissing him back. “I love you, too,” he declared, smiling down at him. Looking around, he saw many people looking expectantly at Harry. “I think your public wants you...”

“I don’t care,” Harry said simply. “Come on.” He pulled Severus towards the back, where Severus was pleased to see a back door. Once they were through it, Severus led Harry to where he was parked, and Harry got into the front seat. “Seven blocks down, and then three over,” he said breathlessly.

“And where’s that?”

“My flat with Remus,” Harry said simply, grinning impishly at him.

Severus’s gaze darkened quickly then with desire at the prospect of what was to come as they sped off into the night. They soon arrived at a sandstone building, and Harry was quick to let them inside. Hedwig had been taken to the Burrow earlier that evening, and Molly and Arthur had agreed to watch her for the weekend ahead. Severus allowed himself to be pulled into Harry’s bedroom, and smirked at Harry’s hasty efforts to undress him.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this,” he breathed, unbuttoning Severus’s shirt and moving on to his belt.

“Do you still want to be on top?”

Harry’s hands stilled in the darkness. “What?”

“Do you want to be inside me?” Severus clarified.

Harry flushed then and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant...”

Severus nodded; he wasn’t a natural bottom anyhow. “Then what did you mean by it, Harry?” he asked his lover.

“I...” Harry nipped at his bottom lip. “I wanted to ride you...”

Severus felt the blood hastily rush to his cock at the declaration. “Anything,” he whispered, and dragged Harry so that the young man was molded against him, rewarding him with a kiss. They each managed to undress the other quickly, and Severus pulled Harry on top of him on the bed, but, decided better of it, and flipped him around.

“What are you...?”

“Shh,” Severus whispered, planting kisses up and down Harry’s back, wanting to map out every inch of him. “Just wait.” He continued in this manner, meticulously pressing kiss after kiss onto Harry’s beautiful skin, smiling to himself each time he made Harry sigh or groan in pleasure. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he parted the cheeks of Harry’s beautiful arse, bending down to taste him there with a swipe of his tongue.

“Severus!” Harry cried out then, bucking promptly against the wet appendage, feeling his toes curling immediately thereafter. “What are you...? Oh, god,” he groaned as Severus did it again, slower this time.

“Do you like that, my love?” Severus whispered against the globes of his arse.

“Yes... Please, don’t stop,” he begged.

“Never,” Severus assured him. He continued in his manner for several moments, before he got the lube from Harry’s nightstand beside the bed, where Harry had directed him, and slowly began to prepare Harry.

“More,” Harry begged, and Severus added a second finger.

“Do you like me stretching your beautiful arse, Harry?”

“Yes... God, yes,” Harry moaned. “More...”

Once Severus added a third finger, and finished stretching his lover, he painstakingly lubed up his own cock before gently taking ahold of Harry by the hips, and guided them so that he was on his back and Harry was looming over him. “Are you ready, my love?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. Please, yes...”

Severus smiled, running his hands down Harry’s sides. “Go slowly now, my love,” he said, and motioned for Harry to place his hands on his arms. “That’s it,” he said, guiding his cock towards Harry’s stretched and lubed up entrance. “Easy now. Not too fast.”

Harry slid easily down onto Severus’s cock, the head immediately making contact with his prostate, which caused him immediately to see stars. Determined to make this last, he negotiated with the space provided for a moment, before he and Severus wrapped their hands around each other’s, and gently moved together in the centuries-old dance. “Severus... Fuck. Oh, my god, Severus!” he shouted, working his hips faster, the more he got used to it.

“Gently, Harry,” Severus told him, although he had never felt more wonderful than he had in his entire life, inside Harry like this.

“No... More, more, more!” Harry said, biting on his lower lip as he pistoned his hips faster than ever, and Severus couldn’t stop the tightening in his balls at the movement.

“Harry,” Severus whispered. “My Harry...”

“Yours,” Harry breathed, going faster than ever. “Fuck, I love you so much...”

“Harry...”

“Yes?” Harry asked, letting out a moan of appreciation as Severus’s hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke at him rhythmically.

“Are you mine?”

“Yes, fuck, yes!” Harry cried, his orgasm approaching. “Are you mine, too?”

“Always,” Severus answered. “Harry?”

“Yes?” Harry whispered, feeling his sensations heightening then, as he knew that orgasm was officially inevitable. “What, love?”

“Marry me,” Severus breathed.

“Oh, fuck, Severus, yes!” Harry yelled out then, exploding over the entirety of their stomachs, and Severus immediately came thereafter, due to the tightening on Harry’s inner walls.

Slowly, Severus eased out of Harry, and gently lay him down on his back. He walked across the hallway towards the bathroom, fetching a washcloth, which he used hastily on himself before returning to Harry’s bedroom, affording him the same treatment. He carded his fingers through Harry’s hair, and smiled fondly down at him.

“I love you.”

Harry put out his hand, wanting Severus to come back to bed. “I love you, too.”

Severus sighed, and sat down beside Harry. “What’s this about Paris?”

Harry propped himself up then and sighed back. “Well, I just wanted to make a new life, but now that we’re together...”

“Harry, would you want me to go with you?”

Harry felt the gasp leave his lungs before he could call it back. “What?”

“If that is what you wish, I’ll go with you, and stay with you...”

“But what about Magical Kinship?”

Severus smiled. “I quit.”

“But, you said you wanted to be a social worker...”

“Now what I want,” Severus replied, reaching into his suit coat and pulling out the black velvet box, which he held towards Harry, “is to be yours forever.” Without hesitation, he flipped the box open, and watched Harry’s awestruck reaction to seeing the ring for the first time. “Harry Remus Potter,” he said, and smiled at Harry, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed, his eyes overflowing with tears, as he held out a trembling hand, and allowed Severus to put the ring on him. He then threw his arms around Severus. “God, I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Harry,” Severus assured him. “I shall always love you.”

~*~

**Epilogue: _Twelve Years Later_**

As soon as it had become legal in The Netherlands, Harry and Severus had married three years later, knowing that their rights as husbands would only apply there, but it didn’t matter, after settling in the countryside of Brittany. To them, they were married everywhere, and it was the same to all their friends. It was through their marriage in The Netherlands which led them to adopting children, thirteen-year-old Gemma, nine-year-old Marcus, six-year-old Ophelia, and four-year-old Patrick. They couldn’t be happier in their small château in Brittany, what with Harry’s restaurant, Le Splendissant Iris, a French bistro and haute couture bakery, which he had opened in the wake of receiving his Culinary Arts degree from Cordon Bleu, constantly making the front pages or cooking sections of _Le Figaro_ , _La Croix_ , and _Libération_. The most wonderful thing about Paris, for Severus, had been the discovery of his husband’s muse, wherein he would be painting constantly, either out and about or within the studio of their home, and would ultimately sell them to Gellert’s Gallery, back in England.

Harry’s eyes slowly opened on that November morning, the wintery sunlight threatening to creep in through the thick curtains of the master bedroom of Potter Park, what they affectionately called their home, although each resident—save for Severus—boasted the surname of Potter-Snape. Turning over, Harry grinned as he took in his husband, his arse still well fucked from the evening before, and considered to himself that, despite the notion that Severus was now in his early-fifties, he looked far younger than he had when he first met him. It was likely because Severus had found peace, through his marriage to Harry, the subsequent adopting of their four children, and the fact that he was experiencing artistic fulfillment.

“Thinking about our lives again, Mr. Potter?” Severus asked, his lips the only thing moving, as he lay beside his husband.

“Morning,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And it’s Potter-Snape.”

“Quite,” Severus said, his onyx eyes opening then, as he slowly smiled at Harry. “And how are you this morning, love?”

“Thankful that this place has twelve bedrooms,” he said, grinning.

“Oh, yes. One would think we’d have scarred our children for life otherwise.”

“I can’t help it if you’re so damn good in bed,” Harry replied cheekily.

“Oh, I am, am I?” Severus asked, promptly pinning Harry to the bed and looking down at him. “I love you,” he whispered.

Harry flushed and grinned back at him. “I love you, too,” he whispered, and promptly wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck, kissing him. “Encore,” Harry moaned, arching his back then as Severus’s lips slipped promptly downwards, sucking at his collar bone, which had proved to be one of Harry’s most sensitive areas.

“Dad! Papa! I don’t want _that_ kind of birthday present!” came an indignant screech from the doorway, and upon looking, they saw a most put-out expression of their oldest, Gemma. Gemma was standing there, tapping her foot, her golden-brown hair already put into a high ponytail, with her pristine outfit already in place. It was her thirteenth birthday that day, so she thought of herself as quite grown up, although her dark blue eyes quickly flashed in anger. “We have a schedule to keep, and you’re already five minutes behind,” she told them.

Harry hid his smile as Severus huffed, moving himself off of his husband. “Happy Birthday, love. How are you this morning?”

“Dad,” Gemma said warningly.

“Gemma, Happy Birthday,” Severus said.

“Papa,” Gemma said, and covered her face with her hands. “I really don’t want to start my teenage life scarred...”

“Look away for a moment, then, Gem,” Harry said to his daughter gently, and moved out of bed once she’d stopped looking at them, pulling on a pair of boxers, and watched from the corner of his eye as Severus did the same. They promptly put their robes on, and turned to Gemma. “All right, then,” he said. “Better?”

“Hmmm,” Gemma replied, sounding like a mini-Severus when she said that. Hesitating, she turned around, beckoning to someone or something in the hallway, and it wasn’t long before Marcus, Ophelia, and Patrick came trooping into the room.

Marcus, at nine, was already quite mature for his age, reminding Harry and Severus immediately of Hermione. Marcus had blond hair and steel-gray eyes, and resembled Draco, however. He pursed his lips as he stepped into the bedroom, hovering in the doorway, but gave quick smiles to his fathers, letting them know that there was nothing wrong.

Ophelia, however, at six, was an impulsive little thing, much like Harry had been when he was younger, before all the bad things had happened to him. Ophelia’s black hair was already done up in two plaits, likely formed by Gemma, and she promptly invited herself onto Severus’s lap, for it was always their younger daughter who was determined to see Severus smile, which she always succeeded in, especially after she gazed at him with her violet eyes.

Patrick, his striking red hair and green eyes letting all who knew him that he had a significant amount of Irish within him, plundered forward, throwing himself at Harry with an impish expression that made his father laugh. “Daddy!” he crowed, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck without hesitation.

“All right, now that we’re all finally here,” Severus growled in mock-anger, pulling Ophelia closer and regarding Gemma, “what is our schedule today, love?”

“Breakfast, then showers and dressing,” Gemma said, ticking the tasks off on her fingers. “Then Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione should be here with Rose and Hugo.”

“Rose tell you if Hermione’s got a break between cases?” Harry asked.

Gemma rolled her eyes. “You know as well as I do that Aunt Hermione never takes a break, and we had to promise an arm and a leg for her to even consider vacation time,” she said, her tone slightly testy.

“Be nice Gemma,” Severus reminded her.

Gemma huffed. “Fine,” she said, allowing herself to relax.

“Did our other guests inform you of their arrival?” Severus asked his daughter.

“Ron said that Uncle Draco and Aunt Ginny are coming with Nathan, Bella, and Fiona,” Marcus reported, much closer to that faction of the family. “Ron’s got a break in his latest case for Scotland Yard.”

“So glad he didn’t go into business,” Harry muttered.

“How are things at Malfoy Media?” Severus wanted to know.

“They’re going well,” Marcus confirmed. “The last of the negotiations to turn _The Wicked Count_ into a full-fledged T.V. series for Netflix is a-go.”

“You shouldn’t know about that,” Harry said, smirking.

“The negotiations or the book series?” Ophelia asked, speaking for the first time.

“Brat,” Gemma muttered. “Dad means the books. We can hardly avoid the negotiations, you know, since Uncle Draco is in charge of them all...”

“How’s Ginny?” Harry asked, not wanting to cause an argument.

“Fine!” Patrick said, obviously pleased to talk about his favorite aunt. “She’s still surfing, and loving being a part of the World Surf League.”

Harry smiled, before turning back to Gemma. “And after the guests arrive?”

“We have to get down to the restaurant and set up my party,” she replied. “Anyone who’s anyone from Saint Joseph is going to be there.”

“Oh? And do we have our eye on anyone?” Severus asked knowingly.

“No!” Gemma sputtered immediately.

Harry smirked. “Gem.”

“No, I do not!” she cried out.

“Gemmy’s in love, Gemmy’s in love!” Patrick said, clapping his hands.

“I am not! Shut up, and don’t call me that!” she said, crossing her arms.

“Gemma Contessa Potter-Snape,” Severus said to his eldest, who immediately flushed at being called by her full name. “Be nice.”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she grumbled.

“And Patrick,” Harry said, “you know better than to tease your sister.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Patrick said, nuzzling closer to Harry.

“Well,” Marcus said, ever the peace-maker, “why don’t we all go downstairs and fight about what to have for breakfast?”

“Breakfast!” Patrick yelled, pushing himself off Harry’s lap and running after his older brother with a look of pure glee on his face.

“No fighting!” Ophelia cried out, getting off Severus’s lap and running after them.

Harry noticed Gemma hesitating, and he looked at his daughter. “Something on your mind, Gem?” he asked her.

She sighed, her shoulders deflating. “It’s not anyone at school.”

“Ah, so there _is_ someone to impress, then?” Severus asked.

Gemma nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who is it, love?” Harry asked.

Gemma gritted her teeth, almost as if she’d rather do anything than admit to it, but her desire to share and confide in her fathers won out in the end. “Rose.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“It’s Rose,” she whispered.

“As in Rose Granger-Weasley, your best friend?”

Gemma twisted at the end of her ponytail. “Look, I know she isn’t my cousin by blood or anything, so it’s not like we’d be doing anything wrong or illegal here...”

“It’s not that, love,” Harry assured his daughter. “Do you... Do you think you may like girls, or boys, or both?”

“Girls,” Gemma said, rolling on her heels. “I’ve given it some thought, and whenever I see myself with anyone, like, romantically, it’s with...Rose...”

“Well, I hope the two of you will be very happy together,” Severus said.

Gemma rolled her eyes. “You kidding? She’d never even look at someone like me. I love you guys, I really do, but if my biological parents didn’t want me, who’s to say that someone as amazing and beautiful as Rose ever could...?”

“We’ve seen the way Rose looks at you, love,” Harry assured his daughter, remembering when Hermione had told them, within weeks of her starting classes at Oxford, that she was pregnant, and she and Ron planned to marry. Rose had been born just before Christmas, a full two months premature, and it had been touch and go for a while, but Rose was strong, and she had proved to be as smart as Hermione. “She’ll come around.”

Gemma rolled her shoulders. “Have you given it any further thought?”

“To you attending the City of London School for Girls next term, and boarding there until you graduate at eighteen?” Severus asked.

“Not boarding, Papa. Living with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione,” Gemma said gently, her temper much better now.

Harry smiled, taking Severus’s hand. “We have, love. And we’ve decided that you can go. I know you’ll make all the right decisions, and all we want is for you to be happy.”

Gemma let out a sigh of relief then before darting across the room and hugging both Harry and Severus respectively. “I really do love you guys,” she said gently.

“We know,” Severus said with a laugh.

“We love you, too,” Harry told her.

Gemma pulled back then, and she took the opportunity to smile at them. “I’ll head downstairs to make sure that the rest of them don’t kill each other,” she said, a little laugh escaping her lips before she could call it back, and she left the master bedroom.

“Remus should be here in a few hours, too,” Harry remarked in the silence that followed. “He always has a good time seeing his grandchildren...”

“How’s he holding up since ending things with Sirius?”

“You make it sound as if it’s new news,” Harry said with a smirk. “He ended things as soon as he decided to take custody of, and adopt me.”

Severus nodded. “True, true.”

“Changing subject,” Harry said; he had used this expression more than once over the years, especially when certain topics had proved too much for him. He let out a small sigh, and placed his head onto Severus’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you how happy I am.”

“Oh?” Severus asked, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“Everything’s just wonderful now,” Harry said, burrowing closer. “Even if I was given the opportunity to wish for anything in my life, I think the only thing I would ask for is having all marriages be legal anywhere. That’s it...”

“A beautiful thought, love,” Severus told him. “Perhaps someday...”

“I love you,” Harry said softly.

“And I love you,” Severus replied.

“And you?” Harry asked, looking up into Severus’s eyes. “Are you happy?”

Severus smiled slowly then, putting his index finger beneath Harry’s chin, tilting it upwards, before he pressed his lips to Harry’s, his very own wicked count. “Always,” the marquis replied.

All was well.

The End


End file.
